Return
by leiasky
Summary: Aragorn and Arwen return to Gondor via Elven High Ships but their journey is far from peaceful. Sequel to 'Restless' & 'Revenge' which can be found here: COMPLETE
1. Prologue

Title:   "Return"

Synopsis:  The return home from Annuminas is met with anxiety, sickness and just a little bit of trouble…..

This is an AU story that does **not follow the timeline of the book.**

Rating: PG-13 

Spoilers: Takes place after _Return of the King_.

Pairing: Aragorn / Arwen.

Disclaimer: I'm not Tolkien. I don't own these characters. (darn!) I make no money. Done for fun.

Additional Info: Movie-verse.

                           First story in this series "**Restless**"

   Sequel to "**Revenge**"

The above can be found here: http://www.geocities.com/maegovannen/lotrfanfic.html

The story will make more sense if read in the above order.

Archive: If you like, just tell me where.

'Return' Prologue 

"If you are determined to set out for the White City immediately, you will do so with an escort from the Grey Havens." Cirdan stood next to Celeborn and stared down at the determined King. Arwen sat beside Aragorn, who rested in bed, confined there on pain of death, until he could stand and walk more than a few feet without assistance. "We realize you want your heir to be born in Gondor, but in the interests of safety and comfort for your pregnant wife and you, yourself, as you recover from your wounds, you will be given two elven high ships in which to sail."

Aragorn sat in silence and let the elf speak. He had been raised in knowing when it was prudent to interrupt an elf Lord and when it was wise to remain silent. 

"It will cut the journey in half – if not more." Cirdan added, and with a knowing look directed at Celeborn, continued. "Every man or elf that wishes to return to the White City, will be welcome, by leave of the High King, of course." 

Aragorn nodded and smiled.

"Cirdan and I will accompany you." Celeborn smiled and the excitement that lit in Arwen's eyes could be felt around the room. 

"We wish to see your heir born and your reign solidified in this Kingdom, Aragorn," Celeborn continued. "This babe will be kin to the race of elves, and we wish to see him safely brought into this world."

Aragorn smiled warmly and nodded to the elven Shipwright. "I accept your offer, Lord Cirdan. We will make haste for the White City," he risked a glance at Arwen and was rewarded with the raise of a curious eyebrow, "when I am given leave to get up from this bed, and when Arwen is well enough to travel."

"I am well enough, husband," Arwen smiled, squeezing his hand. "The sickness will come and go, whether my feet touch ground or water."

Cirdan and Celeborn exchanged a knowing look. If the royal couple only knew….regardless of which mode of travel they chose, that returning to Gondor with Arwen heavy with child, would not be a pleasant or peaceful trip – in more ways than one.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
"Day 1"  
  
Aragorn stood at the top of the marble steps, waiting for the troupe of elven warriors to finish riding through the final gate.  
  
Aldamir stood to one side of the King, Celeborn and Cirdan at the other. Legolas waited below them, on the ground, watching silently.  
  
"Father," Legolas nodded with respect to the King of Mirkwood.  
  
Thranduil nodded respectfully to Aragorn before turning his gaze to his son. The King of Mirkwood dismounted and embraced his son. "It is good to see you well, my son."  
  
Legolas nodded. "And you, father. What brings you to Arnor?"  
  
"The loud traipsing of the Dwarves through our forest and their incessant complaints about the rebuilding of Annuminas drew the attention of the inhabitants of Eryn Lasgalen.*"  
  
Legolas winced as Aragorn and the others descended the steps, Aragorn greeting King Thranduil in the custom of the elves. "Welcome to Annuminas, King Thranduil. My apologies for the disturbance of your forests," Aragorn cocked his head and favored Gloin and his son with a hard stare.  
  
"Yes," Thranduil stared down his nose at Gloin until his gaze came to rest on Gimli completely. "Such inconsiderate behavior is not becoming of an elf- friend."  
  
Aragorn blinked at the term and as Thranduil sifted his gaze from Gloin, to Gimli and then to his son, the High King could only wonder what was going through Thranduil's mind.  
  
When Gimli opened his mouth to rebut Thranduil's charges, Aragorn's stern gaze pinned him in place harder than his father's iron-clad grip on his wrist.  
  
"The Dwarves will take greater care when passing through Eryn Lasgalen," Aragorn assured and indicated that Thranduil follow him up the marble steps. "Please, come and take meal with us. I will fill you in on just why the Dwarves are causing such a disturbance throughout your lands."  
  
Gimli snorted his disgust as he watched the two Kings ascend the steps and disappear into the tower.  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
  
  
"I refuse to remain behind." Gimli's eyes flashed at the mere insinuation. "An excellent team has been set up to oversee the reconstruction of your City."  
  
Aragorn nodded and sipped his tea. It's warmth soothed bones still chilled from his ordeal at the wizard Alatar's hands. "And I thank you. You and your people have my undying gratitude for their dedication to this restoration. I was simply considering our mode of transportation and your possible aversion to such travel."  
  
"In other words," Legolas chimed, staring down, as always, at his diminutive friend. "We think you will fall ill to traveling by water and think you should remain here so as to save us the trouble of listening to ten days of complaint."  
  
Gimli launched himself to his feet to rebut his friend's statement and Aragorn hung his head in defeat. Aldamir rested a comforting hand on his King's shoulder and chuckled softly. "How do you stand it?"  
  
"Quite easily," Aragorn gained his feet and shook his head. " I do not remain in their company for long."  
  
Aragorn, followed by an amused Aldamir simply walked out as Legolas and Gimli continued the bickering that could be heard down the hallways and beyond.  
  
  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
  
  
"Farewell, my friend," Aldamir gripped Aragorn's hand and pumped it hard. "You will be missed."  
  
"Thank you." Aragorn smiled as the last of the army boarded the ship. "We will return, one day."  
  
Aldamir grinned. "Not too soon now. You are not allowed back here until the City has been rebuilt - again."  
  
Aragorn laughed. "It may be even longer than that, I'm afraid. Faramir sends word of growing danger along our borders with Harad."  
  
"Then Gondor's King must lead the battle, whether it be with words or with swords." Aldamir pulled his cousin into a strong hug. "Take care of yourself, your Queen and your babe. If you do not return here, then I will journey there to see this new addition to our family, myself. We do, after all, have these perfectly capable ships sitting in the harbor to carry us to your city."  
  
Aragorn grinned. "Celeborn thought Elven High Ships would be smoother and quicker. He was concerned about Arwen weathering the long journey by sea in one of our 'less perfectly crafted' sailing vessels." The two men chuckled and Aragorn nodded, "I will hold you to that, cousin." Aragorn assured as Arwen stepped beside the men and smiled at Aldamir.  
  
"My Lady," Aldamir bowed, a twinkle in his eye. "It has been a pleasure."  
  
"Thank you," Arwen smiled as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the pale flesh. "Chivalry is alive indeed. I should like to find a way to return this to my husband's mind."  
  
Aragorn scoffed and stepped away. Executing a deep bow over her outstretched hand, he took the fingers Aldamir offered and tucked them into his arm. "You see it nightly, wife."  
  
"Be safe," Aldamir raised his hand as Aragorn and Arwen, arm in arm, walked across the plank and onto the ship.  
  
They turned to face the crowd that had assembled to see their King and Queen off. Raising their hands, they smiled, grateful that the people of Annuminas revered their rulers so deeply as to travel to Pelargir to see them safely put to Sea.  
  
The elves stood to one side, their minds elsewhere, as the ship set sail. Now, more than ever did their hearts call out for their homeland and the look in their eyes was not lost on Aragorn, who understood their yearning all too well.  
  
His arm tightened protectively around Arwen's waist, but his own despair at having seen what awaited the elves across the Sea, made his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. He could see the mask that Arwen had erected across her emotions, could see that she longed to see her home, the land of her people, to be reunited with her long-departed mother once again.  
  
He was unable to reflect much longer on such thoughts as the Chamberlain glided up to the couple, smiling widely. "Your chambers have been set. Is there anything that you require?"  
  
"Nothing, thank you." Arwen smiled politely and squeezed her husband's hand to stop a sharp retort from his lips.  
  
"Just some peace to enjoy the beauty of the Sea," Aragorn added and Arwen shook her head at Aragorn's lie.  
  
"If you have need of me, I will be at your side."  
  
"Thank you," Aragorn turned from the railing and escorted Arwen to the uppermost deck, where they could see for miles across the clear blue water.  
  
Cirdan and Celeborn smiled at the couple and returned to their reminiscing. They'd had no time since being thrust into a battle to save the lives of the King and Queen to speak of days gone by.  
  
Legolas went back to his bantering with Gimli and the Chamberlain skulked in the corner, never far away from earshot of the King.  
  
"It feels so fresh and free," Arwen sighed, settling into the seat, and Aragorn's arms, gazing out over the crystal blue sea.  
  
Aragorn sighed heavily and closed his eyes. It was something he lothed to mention but until he did, the question would gnaw and tug at his mind and heart until he spoke. "Are you certain of your decision?"  
  
Arwen blinked back her shock and pulled herself out of his arms. "Did I hear what I think I just heard?"  
  
"You did."  
  
"Aragorn Elessar Telcontar," Arwen's eyes flashed, "Do you think for one moment that the call of the Sea would be stronger than my love for you?"  
  
"I've seen what you've given up for me."  
  
"I would give it up again for our love, Estel," Arwen's voice softened and he could see her love shining brightly in her eyes.  
  
"Is there enough love in this world to resist an Elf's call to the Sea," Aragorn spoke before he could stop himself and Arwen turned to stare at her husband.  
  
"I may carry the look of an Elf, Estel, but I am no longer immortal. I will fade when the time comes."  
  
The pain and sadness in Aragorn's eyes was evident as he gazed at his wife, in the prime of her life and beauty. "It is something I do not wish to see."  
  
Silence fell between the couple as they thought of the far off time when they would part from the world - a Man succumbing to his Doom and his elven wife succumbing to her grief at his parting.  
  
"It is the choice I've made for you. For our love." Arwen cupped a whiskered cheek in her palm and stared into eyes that held a sadness so deep it sent shivers down her spine. Love, more powerful than the forging of the great rings, had sealed their fate when they'd met under the grove of trees of his childhood home.  
  
"My Tinuviel," Aragorn whispered before dipping his head to take her lips in a gentle kiss.  
  
Arwen smiled against his lips and leaned against his chest, her hands sliding into his hair to pull him deeper into their kiss. When his lips slid to the soft skin of her neck, she trembled and whispered, "My Beren." 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

"Day 5"

Arwen rolled over and crossed her arms as another heavy sneeze shook the bed. She'd not gotten a peaceful nights sleep in days since Aragorn had caught this cold. He was up all night, sneezing and shivering, unable, it appeared, to stay warm. All she wanted was some peace and quiet and to be left alone. She sneered at his back and rolled out of bed. They'd been on the ship for five days and her highly praised non-existent elven temper had finally reared its ugly head. She pulled on a heavy robe, tied it around her waist, and left the room, slamming the door so as to be sure to condemn Aragorn to the wakefulness that he had thrust upon her sleep.

The Chamberlain appeared behind her with a tray and she eyed him warily. "I cannot help but hear the King is not sleeping well. I thought to bring him some warm tea that might - "

Arwen lifted the tea from the tray and walked in the opposite direction. "Thank you. It will warm me quite well."

The Chamberlain blinked and turned wordlessly back toward the way he'd come. "_This is going to be a very long voyage," He thought wordlessly and made his way back to the kitchen to fetch some more tea._

As the door swung open, the Chamberlain was startled to see a very hairy dwarf delving through shelves, making more noise than the King's Chamberlain thought appropriate for this hour of the night.

The ship rocked sharply to the side, causing the man to grip the doorframe for support. He winced as whatever Gimli had been searching through toppled to the floor with a loud crash. The Chamberlain sighed and closed his eyes.  It was then that he heard the pitiful moan coming from the vicinity of his feet. Gimli had fallen over when the ship lurched suddenly and was now quite firmly hanging on to whatever he could find that would not move.

The Chamberlain bit back an amused smile and stepped beside the Dwarf. "Are you in need of assistance?"

"No!" Gimli pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, and what sounded like a groan. "I was simply searching for- "

Again the ship rocked sharply as another wave struck the elven craft. Gimli groaned in response, clutching at anything to remain on his feet.

"You do not look well." The Chamberlain observed. "Perhaps you should lie down and take some rest."

"If I could rest with all of this incessant rocking, that is exactly where I would be!" Gimli snorted and walked, weaving on his feet all the way, to the door. Without a look back, he stepped into the darkness and stalked back to his room.

The Chamberlain shook his head and went about his task of replacing the tea Arwen had liberated from his tray.

On his way back to Aragorn's cabin, the Chamberlain overheard a quiet bickering coming from a dark corner. Venturing closer, he noticed Legolas had appeared to escort the sick Gimli back to his own cabin.

"I am capable returning to my cabin on my own, elf!" The dwarf spat as he swayed to the motion of the ship.

"On your hands and knees perhaps," Even in the dark, the Chamberlain could see the amused look in the elf's eyes. "I only seek to lessen the burden you will put on the deckhands when you spew your dinner all over these nicely polished floors."

Gimli growled, carefully balancing on all fours as the ship rocked with the waves. 

"I think Gimli is not the only one who will be doing such things," Arwen appeared, holding a supporting beam to keep from falling over.

Legolas gained his feet immediately and wrapped a strong arm around her waist. "My Lady?"

"Just lower me to the floor for a moment," Arwen swooned, her eyes crossing with each lurch of the ship. "I need to rest before returning to-" A slim hand came up to cover her mouth as the contents of her dinner threatened to return with a vengeance.

"I will assist you to your rooms, when you are ready."

"Lady, are you ill? May I assist-" The Chamberlain hurried over to his Queen.

Arwen motioned him away as Gimli, too, stood and offered what help he could. "No, please. I just need to rest and then will accept Legolas' assistance back to my cabin."

"Shall I wake Lord Elessar?"

"No." Arwen snapped. "He is ill."

"As are you," Legolas whispered in their native tongue.

"Do not pull him out of bed for this. I should not have been up walking around in the middle of the night. The sickness comes at night. It is my fault for setting foot out of bed."

"He would want to know, Lady, that-"

"Stop!" Arwen interrupted the Chamberlain, her voice echoing down the empty hall. "Please, go back to your own cabin and go to sleep. I will be fine." Another wave of nausea overwhelmed the pregnant queen and she doubled over, again nearly loosing her dinner.

Legolas kept firm hold on Arwen and noticed as she tried to hold back the painful moans threatening to slip through her lips. "Come, let us sit." He lowered her to the deck and she leaned against him heavily.

"Shall I make you some tea?" The Chamberlain, concerned over his Queen's well-being, knelt beside the two elves.

"No, thank you." Arwen whispered, her voice hoarse. " I do believe I should not have liberated the tea you'd made for my husband."

"It was mixed with herbs designed to lower his fever and lessen his cough." The Chamberlain nodded.

"An affliction I do not have." Arwen moaned, her head lolling against Legolas' shoulder. "It is no wonder that I am feeling worse."

Celeborn came around the corner then, his keen elven eyes seeing in the near pitch black, a sight that worried him. He rushed to Arwen's side and pulled her against his chest. 

Arwen gazed up at him with sad eyes. "Oh, my child." Celeborn wiped her damp forehead with the palm of his hand. "You should not be out of bed. Especially this evening. The winds are much more tumultuous than is normal for this time of year."

  
Arwen didn't have the strength to explain and simply leaned against his chest, her pitiful sobs and deep breaths to control the churning of her stomach, causing his heart to fill with pity.

--------------------------------

When dawn broke, the sea was quiet once again. The waves lazily sloshed against the sides of the ships, their sound soothing to the elven ears that watched the Sea with longing in their eyes.

Aragorn groaned as he rolled over, his fever had broken in the night and he was exhausted. Arwen lay sleeping as far from him as her body could be without being rolled out of the bed. She was pale and equally exhausted, happy finally to have reached her bed and a deep, meditative sleep.

Until an argument above deck pulled them roughly out of the first uninterrupted sleep they'd had in days. 

Aragorn groaned and pulled himself out of bed, much to Arwen's delight. She spread across the cushions, stretching like a cat who had been sleeping in cramped quarters for far too long. Aragorn watched her contented face contort at the harsh voices above.

"Stay and sleep," Aragorn leaned over her shoulder and pressed a warm kiss to her neck. "I'll wander up there and see what has Gimli so upset."

"Bring me some tea," Arwen mumbled before nuzzling into the coverlet and going back to sleep. 

Aragorn smiled slowly as he watched his wife burrow deeper into the covers, then winced at the voices coming from above. Human ears could not ignore the sounds, he was unable to understand how his wife's more sensitive elven ears could.

----------------------

Imrahil was the first to see his King emerging from the cabins beneath the deck. He rushed over to Aragorn, an exasperated but concerned look etched into his face.

"How do you feel?"

"Better," Aragorn smiled slightly and placed a strong, reassuring hand on the Lord of Dol Amroth's shoulder. With a slight nod of his head in the direction of the bickering twins, Aragorn added, "with the exception of their arguments waking Arwen."

Imrahil paled. Arwen's irritability had grown in a few short days, undoubtedly because of her pregnancy. He'd already overheard a very one sided argument she'd had with her husband. Wisely, Aragorn remained silent for most of the exchange, earning him points with the already experienced father and husband. "Oh, I can imagine that was not a sight to see."

Aragorn flashed a wide smile. "I'm up here now, am I not?"

Imrahil laughed. "Kicked you out, did she?"

"Not in so many words. But, lets just say I chose to leave before she decided enter into another one-sided diatribe about me being the cause of her sickness." Aragorn's voice dropped so that no one could overhear. "This babe was definitely not a one-sided creation."

Imrahil laughed at Aragorn's long-suffering look. "It only gets worse, my friend." He dropped a heavy hand on Aragorn's shoulder as the King's eyes widened in fear.

"Eru protect us."

"Not 'us' Aragorn, 'you'." Imrahil winked and turned his attention to the arguing elf and Dwarf .

Imrahil chuckled softly to himself as Aragorn stalked toward the two arguing companions and bellowed. "Just '_what' has possessed you to argue so loud and long this early in the morning?!"_

Immediate silence followed, as men and elves alike turned at the sound to stare at the King.

After the shock of the King's tone wore off, Gimli was the first to fly to his own defense. "The _Elf thought it necessary to continue to berate me about the goings on's of last evening. I have had quite enough of his incessant teasing and yet he continues."_

Aragorn turned silently to wait for Legolas' explanation, knowing full well that there would be one.

"I have done or said nothing that the Dwarf can contradict."

"I do not need be reminded!" Gimli spat, straining to meet the elf eye to eye without a prayer of ever being able to do so. 

Aragorn sighed loudly. "Reminded of what?"

Gimli shot Legolas a threatening glare if the elf were to open his lips and speak of what he witnessed during the twilight hours.

"Gimli has been ill. I merely assisted him last evening."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "And you find such an issue with Legolas' assistance?"

Before Gimli could open his mouth, Aragorn continued. "Perhaps you would like to share a chamber with my wife for the duration of the journey. Her demeanor is much the same as yours."

Imrahil shoved a hand into his mouth to keep from laughing aloud, Elladan and Elrohir dropped their heads, large smiles spreading across their features, and Cirdan and Celeborn exchanged an understanding look.

"That will not be necessary," Gimli gruffed, clearly terrified at the prospect of being forced into such a position.

"Then try to keep your banter, lighthearted or no, to a minimum for the duration of the journey? Please?" The pleading look in Aragorn's eyes elicited an amused look from Legolas and a pitiful one from Gimli. "For my sanity?"

"For you, my friend," Legolas nodded, "I will leave Gimli be for the rest of the voyage."

"Perhaps we should live at Sea," Gimli huffed under his breath. "Then I would be forever spared."

Aragorn's head snapped toward the diminutive Dwarf, his eyes narrowing.

Gimli muttered to himself as he walked away, ignoring the annoyed look on Aragorn's face.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

As Arwen lay down for the evening, she cast a questioning look at her husband's back.  She knew he'd finished his conversations with Imrahil and she'd heard them say their farewells before the Lord of Dol Amroth returned to resume command of the other elven ship.

Finished drying his wet face with a cloth, he turned to face her, feeling her eyes burning into his skin.

"I'm sorry for my behavior these last few days, Estel."

He tilted his head and smiled softly. In a few steps he was sitting beside her, his hand cupping her cheek. "You have nothing to apologize for."

She closed her eyes, feeling the shame of her behavior wash over her like an ocean wave. The changes in her body had become more drastic and seemingly unbearable since they'd left Annuminas and she knew she was wrong to take out her frustration on her husband and King.

When he bent over her and pressed his lips to hers, relief flooded through her frame and she returned his kiss. It had been so long since they'd enjoyed the pleasure of one another's touch. Her enthusiasm grew when he gathered her into his arms to continue the caress. Her hands slid into his hair and he pulled her body against his.  As his lips danced across her own, she trembled. His lips traced a searing line of fire wherever they touched and she whimpered his name. Strong, yet gentle, hands slid across her abdomen to lovingly cradle the babe growing within. Her hands covered his as their eyes met, locking as they together sat hand in hand with their babe beneath their touch.

The rain began to patter against the surface of the ship, creating a musical rhythm to which they kissed. "Estel…." Arwen whispered, drawing his eyes to her flushed face. Her fingers toyed with the hair falling along the sides of his face and she smiled, an inviting smile that aroused him beyond any control he attempted to exercise. 

He pressed a finger to her lips and nodded, his eyes speaking volumes without him having to utter a word. When he slid down in the bed to cover her body with his own, she whimpered from the delicious heat of his skin. Slim fingers quickly began to shove away the fabric covering his lean form, baring the beautifully tanned skin to her hungry gaze.

He tugged at the ties keeping her robe closed, his mouth finally descending to capture her lips in a fiery kiss that sent a whirl of pure desire down her spine. As his hands flattened against her bare skin, the ship lurched so sharply they were nearly thrown from the bed. 

Aragorn grunted and reached out a hand to steady himself and his wife.

"Elbereth, what was that?" Arwen stared wide-eyed at her husband and became instantly worried at the look of uncertainty mirrored in his eyes.

"Must have been a strong wave," Aragorn answered, dipping to nuzzle her neck once again. "Before the sun set, it looked as if there was a storm approaching."

Arwen groaned, as much from the fire he was awakening in her body, as the prospect of becoming even more ill due to heavy Seas. She arched her neck, pushing away all thoughts of sickness, and let the desire wash over her like the most powerful wave the sea could toss at them.

The ship shook once again, and this time, they could hear commotion on the upper decks, shouting and…..a ear-splitting cry that sent shivers down the spines of the royal couple. 

Aragorn leapt to his feet and reached for a sheathed Anduril as Arwen re-tied the fastenings of her robe and reached for Aragorn's elven knife.

"Stay here!" Aragorn turned, his hair in disarray, his tunic open to the waist.

He threw open the door just as two elven warriors arrived. "Guard her with your lives!" He cried and rushed down the corridor.

Screams continued to echo down the step-case as he raced to the upper decks. The door had been thrown open and water had sloshed onto the neatly polished wood, slicking the floor. Aragorn stood in the doorway, Anduril clenched tightly in his grasp, staring in disbelief at the torrent of bodies and blood strewn upon the deck. The rain thinned and washed away the blood, leaving a red tinge to the nicely polished wood.

"Aragorn!" Legolas cried, seeing his friend staring in shock at the disaster strewn about the deck. "Move!"

Before Aragorn could react, a large, scaly _something sailed toward him, and connected, sending the High King of the West into the bulkhead with a sickening thud._

The last thing Aragorn saw before darkness closed around his mind was Celeborn and Cirdan rushing toward him, their clothes covered in blood and their eyes full of a fear that sent a surge of terror down Aragorn's veins.

---------------------------------

Sorry so short. Well, maybe not * evil grin * 


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

"Wake!" Celeborn slapped Aragorn's face. When that didn't work, he gripped the man's open tunic in both hands and shook the King.  "Aragorn! You must wake!"

Cirdan gripped Anduril tightly as Celeborn dragged the unconscious Aragorn away from the edge of the ship and away from the creature.  A trail of blood flowed down the side of Aragorn's head, where he'd impacted with the wall, as Celeborn frantically tried to wake the unconscious man.

Aragorn groaned and shook his head, the rain pelting his face and washing away the blood faster than the droplets could fall from his skin. The man groaned as consciousness slowly returned and he blinked slowly, struggling to focus. He coughed from the force of the blow, desperately pushing air back into his lungs. 

Cirdan held Anduril at the ready, watching carefully for another attack, staring with utter horror as men were flung like dolls off the deck and into the raging sea. 

The Shipwright's attention was drawn to Aragorn as he coughed, blood trickling from the corner of the King's mouth. Aragorn's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his arm came across his chest as if to still an unseen pain.

Celeborn grimaced and reached for the man's bared chest, healing hands seeking the source of his grandson's pain. Rain continued to pelt them as Aragorn drew several shaky breaths, still attempting to force air that had been roughly stolen, back into his lungs.

Aragorn coughed again, bringing up more blood and Celeborn winced. He rubbed the trickle of water away from his face with an annoyed grunt.

"Something has been punctured," Celeborn pulled Aragorn into his arms, the man's head lolling into the elf's chest as he continued to struggle for air.

"What – is it," Aragorn breathed, ever concerned with the safety of his people even before his own. He had to know what was behind this attack. What was killing his people. What had so caught him unawares that he now lay in a painful heap in Celeborn's arms.

"A foul thing thought long ago banished into the deep," Celeborn answered, his eyes glazing with hatred for this creature who sought to destroy them.

Intense crystal eyes turned to stare at the elf, struggling to comprehend through the haze of pain shooting through his chest. His breathing was returning to normal but little bursts of light continued to explode before his eyes from the pain.

"An arctic Titan." Celeborn answered, and nodded to Cirdan, who held Aragorn upright as Celeborn tore at his own robes. The former Lord of Lothlorien wrapped several long strips of material around Aragorn's waist in an attempt to stabilize whatever internal injuries the man might have sustained.

Aragorn muttered a not so quiet curse and the two elves exchanged a knowing and understanding look.

"I'm aware this hurts," Celeborn said as Aragorn grunted in agreement. "But it must be done. We don't have time to ascertain your injuries." 

Aragorn nodded, the dizziness fading with each passing minute. His breathing became more stable and his strength returned, in the form of hideous hate for the creature that had done this. He could stand on his own - if the elves would only permit it. 

"We need to get you off this ship," Celeborn wrapped his arms around the injured man. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," Aragorn grunted.

"I've lost sight of the other ship,' Cirdan noted, frowning as the sea tossed its worst at them. 

"That's not good," Celeborn supported much of Aragorn's weight as the injured man steadied himself on his feet. "The titan has reached it?"

As if hearing its name, the beast tore another chunk out of the ship, causing water to begin to flood the upper deck.

"Arwen!" Aragorn cried as he watched the torrent of water rush right for the lower decks.

 "Go!" Aragorn pushed Celeborn ahead of him and leaned heavily against the wall. The sudden movement, in his panic, had been a bad idea as he fought another wave of nausea. "Get to her, please!"

Gimli and Legolas rounded the corner and flanked the King. "He will be safe with us, go fetch the Queen!"

Before Cirdan turned to follow Celeborn, Aragorn ripped his blade out of the elf's hand. At the questioning look in the elf's eyes, Aragorn only answered, "Go!" The two elves rushed down the steps and into the rising water below decks.

Gimli clutched his axe as the boat lurched and surged beneath him. "No time to get sick," He muttered to himself, causing a look of concern on the faces of his friends.

"We'll have you on land soon, my friend," Aragorn breathed as he clutched at the ribs he knew were broken. He coughed once more and Legolas turned to his friend, searching with keen elven eyes. If the blood at his lips was any indication, Aragorn was more injured than he let on.

"We need to get you off this ship, Aragorn." Gimli gruffed and cast an annoyed look in the direction the Titan was last seen.

"And to safety," Legolas added. "You are injured and need assistance." He kept his bow at his side, arrow nocked and ready to fire at a moment's notice.

"I will be fine." Aragorn gritted, clutching his blade tightly to his chest.

Legolas favored his friend with a disapproving look but was distracted by a scream and the sight of a body flying over the rail and into the raging Sea.  Legolas peered around the corner the tip of his arrow leading the way. "We must distract the creature to give the others enough time to get up here from below deck."

Legolas turned to Aragorn. "Stay here and wait for them while Gimli and I distract the Titan."

"No." Aragorn stared, aghast that Legolas would even suggest he stay behind. "I will assist you-"

"You need to protect your wife and that babe she carries," Legolas was nearly knocked off his feet by a tidal wave that crashed into and over the sides of the ship. The water knocked Gimli onto the deck and Aragorn into the wall. The King grunted in pain and clutched his side as Gimli quickly gained his feet, his boots slipping on the well-polished wood while Legolas muttered a fluid curse that would have made elves and men alike cringe in disgust.

Aragorn could find no words to argue as his friends left him leaning against the wall and made their way around the corner and toward the Titan. He could see Legolas drawing his bow and the ear-piercing howl that followed indicated the arrow had struck its mark.

Another lurch of the boat knocked Aragorn off his feet and he groaned loudly as he struck the deck. He coughed again and this time more blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.  He wiped it away in disgust, determined to ignore his own injury for as long as those who served him were in danger.

A few moments later, Celeborn and Cirdan appeared with Arwen sandwiched protectively between them. Aragorn motioned for them to join him and Arwen's eyes widened when she noticed her husband's bedraggled form. The two elves pushed Arwen toward Aragorn and they moved away just in time to see a large scaly arm smash into the wall, caving in the hallway they had just come from and effectively trapping anyone still left below the deck.

Celeborn and Cirdan were thrown to the floor with the force of the blow, and Arwen with them, as debris from the ship scattered around their motionless bodies.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

Aragorn screamed, drawing the attention of the Titan away from the three forms lying far too close to it for Aragorn's comfort. He raised his blade and shouted as the rain fell in huge, cold droplets around him. Large waves smashed against the side of the ship, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Legolas and Gimli heard their friend's frantic call and raced around the nearly crumbled upper deck, weapons at the ready.

The titan disappeared into the water and the three men stood motionless as the rain pelted them from all side.

Aragorn launched himself toward the three motionless figures lying sprawled atop the deck and just as he reached them, the two elves shrugged off the debris and pulled Arwen up between them. 

Aragorn reached Arwen just as the loud creaking of the snapping hull tossed a few screaming men over the rail. His clothes were soaked and blood still trailed a thin line down the side of his head. Arwen's eyes were wide with fear as her husband encircled his arms protectively around her. As she returned his embrace, the elves could hear him hiss in pain between clenched teeth.

"You're injured!" Arwen reached up to brush the blood away from his mouth and head.

Before Aragorn could answer, Cirdan called, "The ship is breaking! We must jump or risk going down with it!"

"That creature!" Arwen asked, eyes wide. "Will it not see us?"

The ship lurched sharply, throwing the men and their Queen into the wall. Aragorn wrapped his arms around his wife before they struck the wood, Aragorn taking the brunt of the impact so as to protect his Queen.

The creature emerged from another side of the ship, taking a few soldiers by surprise. They screamed as one by one they were either knocked overboard into the raging water or crushed between the titan's iron grip.

"It is a chance we will have to take," Celeborn watched as the creature killed every man it found, some in the most painful ways. "We must remain under water for as long as possible. With luck, we'll find pieces of the ship that will support our weight."

"Go!" Aragorn raised Anduril, an angry gleam in his eye. He pushed Arwen into the arms of her grandfather amidst her cries of protest. "Take her off the other side while I distract the Titan. The Sea is scattered with many a small island, make for one of them!"

"No!" Arwen launched herself into her husband's arms. "My place is with you. I will not leave-"

Aragorn's gaze turned hard. "You will go! There is no need for the both of us to die today!"

The ship arched sharply, throwing Arwen into his arms and she clung to him as if he were a lifeline. He bent down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You must live." His voice lowered, softened. "For the re-united kingdom," he flattened his hand across her stomach, "and for our baby." He kissed her deeply once more and rushed toward where he knew Legolas and Gimli were waiting.

"No!" Arwen launched herself after her husband but was held back by two very determined elves.

"Go!" Cirdan pushed Celeborn and Arwen toward the other end of the ship, grasping tight to the lifelines they had procured before reaching the upper deck.

Tears streamed down Arwen's cheeks, lost amidst the cold rain pelting their faces, as she was wrapped securely in her grandfather's arms and lifted over the side of the ship. Cirdan watched as the two hit the water far enough away from the breaking ship to be caught in its pull. Cirdan leapt overboard, flanked by two well-armed elves, determined to protect the royal family.

Far above their heads, the Titan continued to flail its large scaly arms at whatever moved. Aragorn held Anduril tightly, its blade glimmering as it sunk into the hardened scales time and time again. With each strike, Aragorn could feel himself weakening. His broken ribs dug deeper and deeper into sensitive organs stealing his breath.

Legolas was running out of arrows as he shot volley after volley with deadly precision at the flailing beast.

Gondorian guards and Rohan horseman were tossed overboard with practiced ease as those on the companion ship watched in horror as the Titan wrecked the elven High Ship plank by plank.

----------------------------

The storm sent rain pelting down on the archers and the undulating seas made for unsteady footing as they took aim across the bow. At Imrahil's urging, he issued the orders to fire, then at will, as he noticed with utter horror, that they were doing no damage to the Titan.

"We must reach them!" Imrahil called over the howling wind. 

"The Sea carries us further and further away, my Lord!" The Captain of Rohan's guard answered.

"Then find a way! Our King is on that ship!"

The waves doubled the distance between the two ships and there were no signs that the storm was going to let up any time soon. It was too  great a distance to shoot accurately, and those on the safe ship could only watch in horror as the other was rended to pieces.

Imrahil gripped the ship's rail tightly, praying to every goddess he knew to keep his friends safe. He hadn't traveled so far to see the High King of the West die right before his very eyes.

-------------------------------

 "Aragorn, duck!" Legolas pulled his friend out of the way of a large arm and the King gave an appreciative nod toward the elf.

Aragorn, along with several Gondorian soldiers, rushed to the other side of the titan, while Legolas stepped back into the shadows. As they began to hack away against the scaly skin, Legolas raised his bow and took aim. 

The waves crashed into the ship, and as the creature continued to destroy everything in its path, every wave pushed them farther below the water level. The ship was sinking and they needed to get off it or risk being pulled in wake.

Aragorn sunk Anduril deep into the belly of the beast and as it tossed its head back and howled in pain, Legolas loosed his arrow. As the elven lance struck its mark deep within the brain of the beast, its arms began to flail. Aragorn wrenched Anduril out from between the water-hardened scales and glanced around to be sure there were no others in the path of the flailing arms.

"Aragorn!" 

The King whirled in the direction of the familiar voice and when he spotted his friend, the elf's eyes were wide with fear.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see it coming. As if in slow motion, Aragorn turned in an attempt to avoid the inevitable impact.

Gimli howled in rage and Legolas cried out in shock as the large scaly arm struck Aragorn in the side and tossed him over the edge of the broken rail and into the thrashing sea.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 

Celeborn and Cirdan stared unblinking across the Sea. Keen elven eyes scanned the debris that lay scattered along the shoreline, wincing each time they fell upon a motionless body. The Sea was now calm, but none had been found alive save those who had leapt from the ship with the Elven Lords and the Queen of Gondor.

Nearby, Arwen slept, thanks to a sleeping draught prepared by her grandfather, oblivious to the despair reflected in the eyes of the elven Lords. 

Several elven archers and Gondorian soldiers worked near Arwen, readying a warm fire and some food caught not long ago by the skill of the elves. They stood at the momentary command of Lord Celeborn and were under orders to kill anything that posed a threat to the Queen. Until her husband was found, Arwen was the ruler of Gondor.

"We are going to search through the debris," Celeborn called to the men, "See that she is cared for and is not startled if she wakes while we are gone."

The uninjured nodded and moved closer to the sleeping Queen, weapons at the ready.

Silence hung like a thick veil between the two elves, neither of them wanting to voice the fear growing in their hearts with each passing moment. It didn't take long before they came upon a body, lying face down in the sand, quite dead.

  
Celeborn reached toward the obviously Gondorian man and rolled the lifeless body over, revealing the numerous wounds sustained in battle with the Titan. Cirdan searched nearby debris, seeing clothing and other items clearly identifiable to the High Elven Ship, lying buried in the sand.

"We will give them a proper sending when we have the means," Cirdan rested a gentle hand on Celeborn's shoulder.

Celeborn nodded wordlessly as they continued their search, for what and who, they dared not hope.

"I hope the other ship weathered the storm better than we," Celeborn finally broke the silence as they walked. 

"The Titan knew who we harbored. It knew." Cirdan said with an air of certainty in his voice. "The other ship escaped unharmed."

"Would that you are right, Cirdan." Celeborn knelt beside a dead elf, closing his eyes and heaving a heavy sigh. 

Cirdan gazed out over the Sea, eyes straining for some indication as to the whereabouts of who they were looking. 

"If he fell-" Celeborn trailed off, risking a glance back where the elven guards stood over his granddaughter. "It will kill her more swiftly than a blade through the heart."

"We must believe he lives. Somehow." Cirdan said, his confidence waning with each step. "Your grandsons were with him, as were Legolas and Gimli. They will protect their friend and King at all costs."

"He was injured, Cirdan." Celeborn looked ahead, quickly scanning the debris-littered sand. "Badly."

"Bones can be mended," Cirdan said with confidence, hiding the realization that if Aragorn had indeed been as badly injured as they thought, it would be with the blessing of the Valar that he still lived.

"He was coughing blood," Celeborn stopped abruptly and turned to stare at the elven Shipwright. "An indication of an injury far more severe."

"We will find him."

"I think we will not." Celeborn stopped and glanced down at the unconscious form of the royal chamberlain.

---------------------------------

Consciousness slowly returned as the cold water lapped at his cheek. One eye opened, and then the other, to reveal crisp blue water lulling slowly into his face. Slowly, Elladan pushed himself into a sitting position, struggling to return the sky to its normal stable, unmoving self. He lowered his head into his hands for a few moments to clear his senses.

"Elladan!" 

The elf looked up sharply, instantly regretting the quick movement as his head began to swim with pain. The elf grimaced and opened his arms to embrace the brother that launched into his arms.

"You're safe!"

"Somewhat," came the muffled reply.

Elrohir released his brother, keen eyes scanning the others body for injuries.

As if sensing the unspoken question, Elladan raised his head, "Just pulled muscles and an incredible headache. I will live."

Elrohir turned to see that Legolas had knelt beside them and he flashed an amused grin at the elf. "I don't think I've ever seen you so disheveled."

"You've been taking lessons from Gimli." Legolas winced as he stretched bruised muscles. His clothing was torn and wet. His hair matted to his head in intricate tangles. The usually pristine look of the elf had been transformed by the raging sea into something resembling a drowned rat. The other elves, however, looked much the same. "I do not intend to live out the rest of my days here in Middle-Earth without that hairy, diminutive troll by my side." The sadness and fear in Legolas' eyes were plainly clear to the twins and the blond elf did not attempt to hide them from his kin.

Elladan stood, his head now relatively clear, and stared down the debris-covered beach. "Have you found any others?"

"A few Swan Knights and a few Rohan horseman have set up a small camp to the west of here, they are all we have found thus far. Most of their horses did not make it out of the stables below decks before the ship sank." Legolas answered with a bit of hesitation. "I wanted an unmoving base, for survivors to find while we searched the area."

"A good idea." Elladan nodded and breathed deeply and gazed out across the Sea. "Has there been no sign of my sister, Aragorn, Celeborn, Cirdan, and, as much as it pains me to say it, the royal Chamberlain?"

"No. None." Elrohir dropped his gaze, hiding the pain reflected in their dark depths. "Perhaps they are together?"

"Aragorn and Gimli were with me when the ship went down," Legolas offered, his gaze following Elladan's out over the calm Sea. "There has been no sign of them. But…"

Elrohir gazed at the hesitant elf. "What is it?"

"Aragorn was knocked overboard as the titan fell." Legolas said, disheartened and obviously thinking the same as Elrohir.

Elrohir exchanged a concerned look with his brother, realizing instantly that their foster-brother had not merely jumped to save himself from the sinking ship, but could very well have been unconscious when he hit the water. 

"Then we must continue the search." Elladan set his jaw and walked down the beach, oblivious to the hopeless and helpless look in the eyes of the elves standing behind him. "If he's alive, we'll find him."

"Even if he is not, we will find him." Elrohir muttered, knowing that the keen senses of his kin could hear even his slightest whisper.

---------------------------------

Gimli groaned as consciousness returned slowly to the thick mass atop his shoulders that the dwarf called a head. He grunted, angered at his muscles' apparent inability to answer his call. Most of his heavy armor had been shed into the Sea but Dwarves were not well renowned as swimmers, and even after shedding the dwarven armor, Gimli nearly drown in his attempt to tread water long enough to find something to hold his hairy head above the raging seas.

That something had proven to be a very large plank of wood that he'd grasped in desperation after he'd hit the water. Consciousness had faded sometime in the middle of the night and the plank had deposited Gimli onto the beach during that time.

"Eru's heart, get me up!" Gimli huffed, rolling onto all fours where he remained until his head ceased to spin. Grateful that the ground beneath him was no longer moving, Gimli glanced slowly around his immediate area. 

He tore at his remaining clothing and wrapped shreds of it around a gash in his hand and arm. After a few moments, he stood on unsteady feet and began to walk down the beach, occasionally searching the sea for any sign of the other elven ship. Debris were scattered along the dark, sandy shoreline, as were a great many bodies.

The dwarf dejectedly marked each body he came across with his own blood; A red 'X' on their foreheads to indicate to any others passing that they needn't waste time with the dead. There would be time to honor the fallen later, right now, he needed to find those who still lived, and so did any who came after him.

Gimli began to feel disheartened by the distinct lack of survivors as each body he came across turned out to be very cold and very dead.

When a gleam of metal caught his attention, Gimli strained his eyes down the beach toward the source. His eyes widened and his breath hitched in his chest. He began to jog toward the sight, a bit slower than normal, his heart soaring. He came to a halt beside the blade that had seen and survived more battles than could possibly be counted, including the last battle with the great Sauron himself. Gimli fell to his knees and clutched the blade to his chest. It was cold against his skin, clearly having been out of the hands of its bearer for a long time.

Gimli glanced uncertainly down at the body lying very still next to the _Flame of the West_. The dwarf closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer to Eru. He sighed deeply when he fingers touched the stiff, cold man and rolled him over.

-------------------------------

"Finish the repairs quickly!" Imrahil ordered as he paced the uppermost deck of the High Elven Ship. "We must find them!" Imrahil rubbed at tired eyes yet still paid close attention to those working below.

The elves worked furiously on the repairs, hearing the desperation in the voice of the  Lord of Dol Amroth. Much damage had been wrought in the storm, but it was not un-repairable. They had no idea how far south they had drifted and the other ship could not be seen. Imrahil had the right to be upset.

Imrahil's captain settled next to his Lord and muttered. "It must have gone down. There are debris scattered everywhere and those we picked up in the night from the Sea speak of the same."

"I know." The response was barely above a whisper and the Captain had to strain to hear his Lord's words. 

"He's alive. They're alive." The captain rested a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He knew what his Lord was thinking. "We'll find them."

Imrahil nodded slowly, unable to wrap his mind around a positive outcome for this situation. But some had survived. They'd picked them up throughout the night. There must be more.

Imrahil's  eyes cleared suddenly and he stared at the Captain with a determined look, "We need check every island for survivors. If they're out there, yes, we will indeed find them!"

The captain smiled, grateful to see his Lord's despair at their situation had, for the moment, vanished.

"How am I going to explain _this to Faramir?" The look of disbelief at the situation they'd found themselves in would have been amusing if it wasn't for the fact that is had been his King, Queen and a hoard of friends and kin on that missing ship. "He'll never believe  this."_

The captain cast an amused glance at his Lord, nodding in agreement at the incredible events that had befallen them since they left Minis Tirith, and remembering everything that had happened to Aragorn as well.

Imrahil took a deep breath, chuckling to himself, making light out of a grave situation in hopes of forgetting about the worst that could happen. "And he's never going to let Aragorn step one _toe out of Minis Tirith again."_


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

Relief flooded the diminutive dwarf as he rolled the dead man over. It was not Aragorn. But it _was_ the captain of the Gondor's guard. After muttering a few words for the dead in his native language, Gimli pushed himself to his feet, clutching Anduril tightly in his hand. The sword was heavy, awkward, in his grip but Gimli would bear it until he found its rightful owner.

Bodies littered the shore, many maimed and mutilated by the Titan, the blood staining the dark sand nearly more than Gimli could bear.  He doubled over as his head began to spin and gazed down the shoreline in an effort to clear his head.

He blinked several times, trying to un-blur his vision. A richly decorated red tunic caught his eyes, nearly glowing as the sun beat down on it. He pushed himself to his feet with a loud grunt and jogged as quickly as his short, tired legs would carry him. As he got closer, Gimli could see the gold threads edging the tunic, and knew he had found the man for whom he'd been looking.

The Dwarf fell to his knees behind the un-moving man, setting the blade beside its fallen master, and reached for the torn and bloodied tunic. The fabric was soft in his hands, even in its destroyed state. Gimli was careful as he touched the man's shoulder, seeing and feeling as if the unconscious man would break at the mearest touch. With a nervous sigh, he slid his hand to the back of Aragorn's head to support it as he rolled his friend onto his back.

Blood matted the King's dark hair to his face and Gimli winced. Aragorn's body was cold, deathly so, and his skin was pale and clammy. A close once-over revealed a gash across his temple – undoubtedly the cause for his unconscious state. Gimli reached for the pulse point and breathed a huge sigh of relief as he felt the faint beating of the King's heart.

"Aragorn?" Gimli didn't dare shake his friend, uncertain if he harbored any unseen injuries.  On the outside, Aragorn seemed relatively uninjured, but Gimli would not let such appearances deceive him. He'd seen Aragorn knocked over the side of the ship by a flailing Titan arm. He knew there had to be some internal injuries, but Aragorn needed to wake for him to ascertain just exactly what they were.

Tearing a piece of his own tunic, Gimli reached down into the water lapping at Aragorn's feet and wet the material. He carefully brushed away the sand and dried blood from his friend's face, hoping that the cool water would be enough to wake Aragorn.

"Come on, Aragorn." Gimli huffed, squeezing the excess water out onto his friend's face in an effort to wake him. "Sleep not here.  It is cold and I have not the strength to drag you out of this water!"

Aragorn groaned in response, and Gimli continued to squeeze droplets of water out of his torn tunic. "Wake! Do not test my patience, King of the West! The elf vexes me enough, I need not another to do the same!"

Parched lips parted to suck in a deep, shuddering breath, and only on the hissing exhale did Gimli hear his name.

"Yes, yes, I've been sitting here for Eru knows how long trying to wake you." Gimli tried in vain to break the tension, hearing all the while the struggling breath coming from his friend's lips. He leaned over as Aragorn slowly opened his eyes. "I know it hurts. Tell me where."

"It might be..easier…to tell you….where…it…doesn't hurt…" Aragorn breathed, gritting his teeth against the pain.

He coughed, his entire body shaking with the effort. Gimli rolled him onto his side, making the painful exertion a bit easier on his friend. The dwarf noticed the trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and winced as Aragorn closed his eyes in pain. "You have internal injuries, Aragorn." Gimli said slowly, realizing that his friend could very possibly die before his very eyes.

"I know, Gimli." Came the breathless response.

"You need to help me get you out of this water. You'll catch a chill," Gimli stood and began to look for a way to make the task easier.

"A chill……. is the least….. of my worries," Aragorn whispered.

"I will **not** let you die, Aragorn. You need to help me!"

"You may have…. no choice…my friend," Aragorn coughed again and this time Gimli could hear the gurgling of blood in his lungs.

------------------------------------------

"Estel!" Arwen sat bolt upright, eyes wide with terror. Her hair was mussed and her fingers clutched the crude blankets so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her muscles violently protested the quick movement and she groaned, leaning back into the tattered blankets that had been made into a makeshift bed for her.

Celeborn was beside her in an instant and carefully helped her to lie back onto the makeshift bed. "You must rest."

The Chamberlain stood quickly and limped on his bound and injured leg, to his Queen. "May I help?"

Celeborn shook his head quickly to dissuade the Chamberlain from interfering. Arwen obviously had a very disturbing dream, one that involved her still-missing husband, and the elven Lord would need as much peace and quiet as he could get to calm his frightened granddaughter. 

Arwen stared wide-eyed at her grandfather, unblinking, dark eyes searching for the answer to an unspoken question. Her husband's name, a mere breath on her lips, was stolen by a small jolt of pain that ripped through her stomach. She gripped her abdomen and winced, her body trembling from the shock and cold that had settled into her bones from her very unwelcome bath at Sea.

Celeborn slid a gentle hand across her stomach, feeling carefully for any signs that would indicate an event he dare not even think. He wrapped tighter around her shoulders, the make-shift rags that served as blankets, and turned to stoke the fire to a louder roar. "Be still. Rest."

"I must know." Arwen leaned heavily against the tattered blankets, what little strength she had giving out. 

Cirdan glanced quickly at his friend as Celeborn procured a crude cup filled with water from one of the nearby guards and lifted it to Arwen's lips. "Drink."

She took a few sips, swallowing heavily as the cool liquid slid through parched lips and down her throat. She coughed a few times and glanced around the small camp. In a low voice, she asked. "Where is Estel?"

Cirdan and Celeborn exchanged a worried look. "I don't know, child." Celeborn pushed the mug to her lips and bade her to drink, his other hand sliding to cup one side of her cheek. "We have not found any other than who sit with us now. As soon as dawn breaks, we will begin our search anew."

Arwen remained silent as she lifted her gaze toward the stars twinkling in the night sky. After a few moments, she whispered. "He is out there."

-------------------------------

Gimli pressed his hand against Aragorn's forehead for what must have been the hundredth time. Beside them, the fire crackled brightly, providing much needed warmth to the two companions. The King's skin was clammy, and regardless of what Gimli did to make him more comfortable, the man continuously coughed and trembled.

The sun had set not long ago, and Gimli had been forced to call off his search for other survivors. The one that did survive, who was probably the most important man on that ship, was lying here beside him in grave need of attention. And there wasn't a damn thing Gimli could do to assist his friend.

"Aragorn, you must stay awake!" Gimli huffed, shaking his friend's shoulders.

The Dwarf was rewarded by a muffled groan in response. He pressed a small fruit-like orb to Aragorn's lips. "Drink this. It's quite tasty and you are in need of liquid."

"You-are a good friend, Gimli," Aragorn breathed and Gimli could hear the strain in the

 man's voice as he spoke. "Thank you - for everything."

Gimli could feel his charge relax into the sand which brought the Dwarf to his knees immediately. A loud slab against the King's face garnered no response from the now unconscious man and Gimli cursed loudly. "Aule's soul, Aragorn! You are _not_ going to die in my care!"

A snap to his right brought Gimli to his feet immediately. He procured the only weapon he had been able to hold in the deep water - his small handaxe. "Show yourself or prepare to feel my wrath!"

"Gimli?" A voice sounded from behind him and the dwarf whirled, his axe at the ready.

"Legolas!" Relief flooded the Dwarf's voice as he stalked toward the elf. "How foolish of you to sneak up on me like that! I could have taken your head off without a second thought!"

A pale eyebrow raised in amusement. "That, I very seriously doubt, my friend."

Two figures appeared from the trees, immediately rushing to the side of the unmoving King. 

"How long has he been unconscious?" Elladan asked as Elrohir pressed long fingers to the man's temples.

"A few minutes." Gimli and Legolas joined the twins. Legolas knelt at his friend's feet, eyes searching for the injuries he knew the man harbored beneath the skin. "He's hurt badly, Legolas." The effort it took to admit his failure to heal his friend could be heard plainly in the strain of his voice.  "I haven't been much help to him."

"He's still alive, isn't he?" Elladan opened Aragorn's mouth and poured a foul-smelling liquid down his throat. 

"Well-yes, but-"

"Then you have done all you could," Elladan interrupted as the sting of his hand connecting with the King's bearded chin echoed through those gathered around the unconscious man.

"Wake, Estel!"

"We cannot move him," Elrohir said with a sigh.

"I know. We must make a litter-"

"I began work on one," Gimli turned to Legolas and pointed to a pile of long, crudely-cut branches. "Darkness fell and he was in need of attention so I was forced to stop."

  
"Well done, Gimli!" Elrohir cried and nodded to Legolas and the two elves began to finish the work Gimli had begun. "It is the only way we will be able to transport him to our camp."

"You have many with you?" Gimli followed, leaving Aragorn in Elladan's capable hands.

"A few. Not many compared to the numbers that were aboard the ship when it sank." Legolas answered as they worked. 

"No sign of my sister, Lord Celeborn or Cirdan." Elrohir tore at a large mast that had been piled on top of the poles. "I refuse to believe they perished in the Sea."

They talked quietly as they worked, making short work in finishing the litter. A sickening cough drew their attention and the elves drew the litter with them as they knelt beside the King.

"Aragorn," Elladan positioned himself at his foster-brother's head. "We are going to lift you onto the litter so we can carry you to our camp." He received only a muffled groan in response and he nodded to Elrohir who gripped his brother's legs tightly. Legolas and Gimli stood ready at Aragorn's side, to provide what support they could as the elves moved their kin.

Aragorn's scream of pain echoed across the silent sand as he was lifted into the litter. The only answer to his cry was the splashing of waves against the shore.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"There are tracks!" Imrahil pointed to the indentations in the sand near the edge of the beach. He did not wait for the boat to be moored and secured before he leapt out of it and raced down the sand. "Survivors fell on this beach and moved of their own accord. Near the treeline, search for tracks!" Imrahil called to the search party. "The sea has washed away most of them, but by the Valar, someone lived!"

Bodies were littered across the sand and Imrahil noted with a pang of regret that they were all dead. That realization was made even more clear by the red marks dotting their foreheads. "Someone took care to make sure any rescue party would not linger long here."

"Aye." Came one of Imrahil's guards. "Which indicates that perhaps we will find more injured that are still alive and in need of urgent care."

"We will find them." Imrahil's gaze bore heavily into that of his guard. "I will not return to Gondor with news of the King's death."

-------------------------------------

"He worsened in the night," Elladan covered Aragorn's forehead with a damp rag, trying desperately to lower his brother's fever. Fruit peals littered their camp as they were what Elladan had used to mix healing salves and teas to use on his foster brother throughout the night. 

"We cannot give up hope." Elrohir slid his fingers between the clammy, lifeless ones of his foster-brother. 

"Not until he takes his last breath will I give up hope." Elladan's steely gaze encouraged his twin.

Below them, Aragorn whispered in his fevered sleep, incoherent mutterings save for one word, one name that either twin would recognize instantly when falling from the King's lips. _Arwen._

Elladan leaned over Aragorn and flattened a warm hand against the man's whiskered cheek. "She is well. She waits for you. Fight this darkness, Estel. Fight it for your wife and child."

Elrohir eyed his brother suspiciously but understood the reason for his lie. If he could make Aragorn believe there was something very tangible to fight for, a wife and a baby waiting for him to get well, perhaps he wouldn't succumb to the severity of his injuries.

"Where?" Aragorn's eyes slitted open and he glanced about, looking for his beloved.

"Yes, fight it," Elladan held another rag to Aragorn's parched lips and squeezed the water down the man's throat. "I know it hurts. I know you want to sleep. But you must fight it. Please."

"Arwen."  Another cough wracked his body and Elladan winced, hearing the labored breathing far clearer than he really cared to hear.

Elrohir looked up toward the rising sun. "Hurry Legolas, Gimli. Find help." The elf turned to the other injured men sitting and lying nearby. Some were relatively unharmed, others had varying degrees of severe injuries. But all were equally concerned for the King's failing health.

A cry then drew the attention of the twins and two sets of dark eyes scanned the beach to locate the source of the sound. The men sitting around the camp had yet to hear the calls, elven ears could hear far better, but soon, they too, could see the soldiers racing down the beach.

"Imrahil!" Elladan cried, relief flooding his tall frame. He leaned over his foster-brother and flattened his hand against the unconscious man's cheek. "Help has come!"

Imrahil's eyes widened when they reached the small camp and he immediately fell to his knees beside Aragorn.  The Lord of Dol Amroth made no attempt to mask the worry in his eyes as he stared down at his injured King. He immediately issued orders for his men to treat the other wounded and held up a small container of herbs and medicines to Elladan.

The party surrounded the King and the rest of the injured, treating them as best they could with the crude materials they had brought wiih them. "We must get him back to the ship. We have better instruments there to tend his injuries."

"We can't move him," Elladan said gravely. "Not without much pain."

Imrahil trembled as he touched his King, feeling the frail body beneath his hand. "Aragorn, we must move you. We must get you to the ship. Can you stand the journey?"

A dark head lolled to the side, the normally bright crystal eyes now pale and glossy. Imrahil's presence barely registered in Aragorn's consciousness and Imrahil stood immediately, making the decision. "Move him. Carefully. We've brought litter's with us to carry the injured."

Imrahil turned to one of the men. "Pad well one litter with cloaks and anything soft you can find. We will set the King in it to move him."

Guards moved immediately to obey his command as Imrahil turned back to the twins. "He must be moved to a secure location and examined thoroughly. We must do that aboard the ship."

"He has internal injuries that cannot be seen," Elladan informed Imrahil, who merely nodded.

As if to reinforce his brother's comment, Aragorn coughed and blood began to drip from the corner of his mouth. Elrohir immediately wiped the blood away and helped his brother onto his side as his body convulsed from the strain.

Imrahil stared at his King, eyes widening with fear as he finally understood just how severe were Aragorn's injuries. "We must hurry. Where is that litter?!" Immediately, it was brought and laid behind the King. Easily the injured man was laid onto it and lifted into the steady arms of the Swan Knights.

Two others were carried similarly as the troupe made its way back down the beach to where the small elven boats were moored.

------------------------

"Arwen." The name came in a breathless gasp as Elladan carefully cared for his brother. He rubbed a special salve into every cut, broken bones were set with as much precision as possible. But Aragorn's fever still raged, pushing him further and further into delirious muttering. Always it was the same name. Always was it the same thought.

"She will see you when you are well," Elladan continued to lie and Elrohir winced. "She must protect that heir of yours so she rests elsewhere."

"Arwen." Aragorn muttered again, his voice straining with emotion.

When Elladan turned to take a mug of medicated tea from his brother, Elrohir grasped the other elf's hand and whispered, "He will only accept our excuses for so long."

"It will be enough," Elladan moved to sit beside his brother and lifted his head to pour warm liquid down his throat.

Aragorn coughed, and tried to gulp as much of the liquid as he could swallow. Elladan slowed his brother, advising caution.

Elrohir sighed and walked to the door, leaving his brother to tend to Aragorn. He needed to find Imrahil, and see how the man was faring with his continued search for the Queen and the rest of his kin.

Elladan set the mug aside and flattened his hand across Aragorn's sweat-soaked brow. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if trying to force some of his life into his injured brother.

When Aragorn's breath hitched in his throat, Elladan's eyes snapped open in fear. 

Aragorn began to cough, his body trembling with the effort. His breath rasped from his lips, as if he were gasping for air and Elladan immediately shoved an arm behind his brother's back to lift him up. Aragorn's head lolled onto Elladan's shoulder and his body went slack in Elladan's arms.

"Aragorn, no!" Elladan cried. He lay he brother flat and leaned over him, feeling for a pulse.

He found none.

------------------------

Imrahil stood gazing out over the calm sea, his carefully contained emotions threatening to burst through his chest like a tidal wave. When Elrohir stepped beside the man and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, Imrahil nearly came out of his boots.

"Peace, it is only I," Elrohir said slowly.

"What news?"

"His condition has not changed. But he is comfortable now."

Imrahil closed his eyes. It had only been a few hours since his injured King had been brought aboard, he shouldn't expect a miracle in so short a time. 

"Will it change? Will he heal?" Imrahil heard his voice ask the question and steeled himself for an unfavorable response.

When an answer was not immediately forthcoming, Imrahil sighed and turned to Elrohir. "How long does he have then?"

"I will heal him or I will die trying," the elf proclaimed with a quiet ferocity. "My father was the best healer in Middle-Earth, my brother and I learned much from him. We will _not_ let him die."

The two fell silent for a time as the bustling work continued on the remaining elven ship and parties docked and left in search of the still missing Queen.

"Are they out there?" Imrahil asked, to no one in particular. "Will we find them? Or will we lose everything we have gained in the last few years in one fell swoop."

"Do not despair," Legolas stepped beside Imrahil and glanced quickly at Elrohir, who nodded slowly. "Their story is long, and has been filled with more trials than you could count in a lifetime. I do not, will not, believe it is to end this way."

Imrahil turned bright eyes, wet with unshed tears, on the woodland elf. "It is hard to have hope when my King lies near death and his queen, pregnant with the only royal heir, is missing."

"Your King may lie near death but _hope_ lies there also. The Valar will not permit him to die, not yet." Elrohir turned his gaze toward a far away island. Elrohir's eyes narrowed and Legolas' eyes followed toward that island so far in the distance the eyes of men could not see but a speck of it. "There is-"

"Smoke," Legolas finished and both elves turned to Imrahil. "There!" Elrohir pointed toward what elf eyes alone could see. "Smoke rises. There are inhabitants there. We must go!"

Imrahil's eyes narrowed. "I can see nothing. The sun is near setting and-"

"Do not doubt elven eyes! Recall your men and set for that island!" The urgency in Elrohir's voice spurred the Prince of Dol Amroth to action and he called out orders to recall his men from the nearby shores.

"Are you certain?" Imrahil cursed himself for doubting them but he had to voice his concern. "Could there be survivors so far apart?"

"Arwen , Celeborn and Cirdan jumped far before we did," Legolas advised. "It is possible the rough current put so much distance between us."

Imrahil nodded. "Aye, agreed. Forgive me for doubting."

"There is nothing to forgive. Just get this ship there as fast as possible."

-----------------------

"Something comes," Cirdan stood at the shoreline, the water lapping at his feet as he stared out over the dark sea. His eyes narrowed, straining with elven sight to make out the image on the water. When the banners of the Reunited Kingdom flapped into sight, Cirdan rushed back to the camp.

"Wind the fires. Burn them higher, brighter!" Celeborn looked up from where he was assisting his granddaughter with some food, eyes narrowing with an unspoken question.

"The Kings Banners!" Cirdan pushed the men able to move into throwing more wood onto the fire. "The other ship is intact. I can see it in the distance!"

"Fan the fires!" Celeborn commanded, glancing at the slow-moving men and elves, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Arwen pushed herself into a seated position, her eyes straining across the Sea. When the image came to her eyes, she launched herself to her feet – and promptly fell over.

Celeborn was beside her in an instant, anticipating her inability to stand easily. But as she gained her bearings, she was able to remain on her feet, grimacing at the pain in her abdomen but ignoring it as the elven ship sailed ever closer. 

They stood at the water's edge, waiting, and time seemed to slow. Arwen fidgeted anxiously , eyes scanning the approaching ship. Celeborn wrapped a secure arm around her waist, containing his joy at their rescue until he, too, could get a clear view of those waiting along the rail.

When the ship was close enough, they could see the boats disembarking, and a flurry of activity on the ship itself to prepare to bring aboard more survivors. Arwen's eyes searched the bow, looking for her husband – to no avail.

Celeborn felt Arwen's shoulders slump and he pulled her gently against his side. "He's there, granddaughter. We just haven't yet seen him." He masked his fear, allowing only Cirdan, who stood next to him, to see the unwritten question in his eyes.

Where was Aragorn? Why was he not on the bow directing the rescue boats?

They could plainly see that Imrahil was giving the orders and their breath hitched in their throats wondering why it was not the King issuing the commands.

"Estel," Arwen whispered, her heart sinking into her stomach. She knew something was wrong, terribly wrong if Imrahil was issuing orders instead of Aragorn.

Arwen's hands flew to her stomach, cradling the growing babe within, and prayed to the Valar that they keep her husband safe – wherever he was.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Celeborn had to hold Arwen tightly as she anxiously awaited the approaching boat. She could see Elrohir at its head, himself waiting impatiently for the boat to reach the beach. The siblings nearly contemplated rushing into the water to reach one another.

"Where is he?" Arwen asked, her voice cracking with nervous emotion. Her eyes flicked to the bow of the ship, still unable to locate her husband. Celeborn remained silent, the fear that gripped him when he noticed Aragorn was no where to be seen, steadily grew as the rescue boats neared the shore.

When Elrohir deemed the boat close enough, he leapt from its dry wood and into the sea, rushing toward his sister.

"Onooro!" {brother}  Arwen was wrapped in his strong arms faster than any man could blink, held tight and safe.

"Onoone! {Sister} You're safe! Valar be praised!" Elrohir enfolded his sister in his arms, breathing a huge sigh of  relief.

Celeborn and Cirdan stared, noticing another emotion hidden beneath the surface of the elf's eyes, something carefully masked.

"We were so worried!" Elrohir quickly led Arwen to the boat, Celeborn following closely behind.  Cirdan remained behind to assist with the injured, taking the next boat that arrived nearly on the heals of the first. He gripped his pack of herbs tightly, thinking with a heavy heart that he would need them later.

"Who is with you?" Celeborn asked, settling himself on one side of Arwen, Elrohir on the other.

"Everyone," Elrohir answered, catching the unspoken question in his grandfather's eyes.

"Estel?" Arwen's eyes lit as she glanced up at her brother with hope-filled eyes.

"Yes. He is with us."

Arwen released a breath of relief and sagged against her brother's chest. "Valar be praised."

Elrohir exchanged a look of concern with Celeborn, his eyes unable to hide from the ancient elf that all was not entirely well.

"Then why was he not on the bow? And why are you here in his place?" Arwen asked quietly. She, too, could feel her brother stiffen and knew instantly that something was wrong. When she arched her neck to look into her brother's eyes, he was unable to completely mask his fear.

"He is injured?" Celeborn finally asked, knowing his granddaughter would not stop questioning until she received an answer.

"Yes."

Arwen's eyes narrowed and her breath hitched, "How badly?"

Elrohir took a deep breath and Arwen closed her eyes, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach.

"Why don't we wait until we reach the ship, Arwen," Celeborn mercifully spared Elrohir the necessity of responding. "We will be there soon enough."

-------------------------------

When Imrahil went to check on Aragorn, what he found sent his heart plummeting into his stomach.

Elladan was leaning over the King, his mouth pressed tightly to the injured man's, and Imrahil could see that the elf was forcing air into Aragorn's lungs.

"Oh Valar!" Imrahil rushed to Elladan's side. 

"He begins breathing and then stops, continuously now."

"What can I do?"

"Pray." Elladan drew a deep breath and pressed his lips to Aragorn's once again.

They could hear a cheer go up as the first boat docked with the ship and Imrahil knew that Arwen had been found.

Elladan, too, surmised the same but he had little time for joy. He glanced at Imrahil, eyes pleading. "Don't let her see this."

Imrahil nodded and rushed out the doors to greet the Queen of the Reunified Kingdom.

----------------------------

"I want to see Estel," Arwen demanded, sending a scathing glare in the direction of her brother.

"Let's get you settled first and-" Elrohir trailed when he noticed Imrahil coming toward them. In his eyes was a quickly masked look of fear that sent Elrohir into a near fit. Something had happened. Elladan was not here to greet his sister.

When the Lord of Dol Amroth dropped to his knees before Arwen, Elrohir immediately knew there was something wrong.

"Blessed be, M'lady!" Imrahil took her hands and squeezed them between his own. "You're safe!"

"Quite, thank you." Her tone changed to that of a royal queen who demanded to be obeyed. "Now I would like to see my husband if you will kindly escort me."

"I will escort you to your chambers right away. You look as if you need your rest-"

"That is not what I asked." Arwen's voice turned cold, her eyes icy. "Where is my husband?"

"He is ill, M'lady. Elladan is tending to him. He asked- not to be disturbed."

Elrohir moved toward the King's cabin while she argued with Imrahil. Celeborn moved to stand in Arwen's line of sight so that his grandson could leave to tend whatever business had him on edge. If it was as he suspected, he, himself would be needed as soon as Arwen was placed comfortably in a secure chamber – away from her husband.

Elrohir winced at her tone, envying not the scathing tongue lashing Imrahil was about to receive from his sister. Once out of her view, he rushed around the corner and down to the lower desks as fast as he could.

The terror in the eyes of his brother greeted him like a blow to the chest, stealing his breath. "I need help, Elrohir. Please tell me Lord Celeborn and Cirdan have been found with Arwen?"

"Yes." The brother crept closer. "Valar, what has happened?" 

"I need them." Elladan worked frantically, pressing on Aragorn's chest as hard as he dare. "Now!"

Elrohir jumped and immediately rushed out the door. Gratefully, Arwen had been removed, none so quietly as her voice could still be heard, from the upper decks and when Elrohir threw open the door and rushed out onto the deck, everyone bore witness to the terror in his eyes.

Cirdan, who had just arrived with the last of the survivors, turned and immediately followed Elrohir, with the twin asking for Imrahil to fetch his grandfather from Arwen's chambers.

By the time Celeborn and Imrahil arrived in Aragorn's chamber, the stench of death filled the room, nearly causing the elf to sink to his knees in despair.

Celeborn rushed to Elladan's side and extended a steady hand toward his grandson. "Tell me what you need. It will be done."

Elladan's head snapped toward the Prince and he recited a list of items that he would need. Imrahil took note of them and rushed out the door.

Celeborn took a deep breath as he heard Aragorn's unsteady and gurgled breathing. "Punctured lung." It was not a question. "Valar." The elf muttered beneath his breath.

Aragorn groaned Arwen's name once again and Celeborn leaned over the man who had stolen his granddaughter's heart. "She is well. Resting and taking care of your babe." He flattened a hand on the man's brow and cringed at the heat radiating from Aragorn's skin. "It is going to take all your will, all your strength to pull through this, Aragorn. But you must, "Celeborn leaned closer, his lips nearly touching the injured man's ear. "You must live for Arwen and for your son." The determination in the elves eyes heartened the twins as they continued to prepare the items that would be needed to save their brother's life. When Celeborn stood and began to prepare himself, he whispered, "Let the light of Valinor shine on him once more. Please."

The twins echoed Celeborn's prayer as Imrahil walked in, several guards carrying additional requested items.

"It's crude, but…"

"It will do." Celeborn interrupted. "Please make sure Arwen is kept far away. She should not see what we are about to do."

Imrahil nodded and watched as Celeborn shoved an edged metal rod into burning coals and the twins prepped the other instruments. "What _are_ you going to do?"

"We must drain the blood from his lungs." Celeborn began. "He will suffocate in the blood if it is not removed. That is why he continues to stop breathing." Celeborn continued with his preparations. "Once that is done, we will have to seal the puncture."  
  
Imrahil glanced at the metal stave that would be used to cauterize flesh and winced. Elrohir crushed some herbs and forced them down Aragorn's throat in an effort to numb the pain that was to come.

"We must begin." Celeborn instructed the twins and Cirdan stepped up to lend his assistance.

Imrahil's eyes narrowed as Aragorn continued to toss in the bed. "Will you not sedate him?"

"We cannot." Cirdan answered as Celeborn examined Aragorn closely and prepared to insert the sharpened metal tube. "We have dulled his senses as much as we dare. He needs to be kept alert. If he falls into sleep, or unconsciousness, he may not wake."

Imrahil nodded, eyes wary.

"We will call for you when we have finished. Please see to it that Arwen comes no where near these chambers."

Imrahil nodded and walked slowly out the door, turbulent emotions threatening to bubble into violent anger. The guards at the top of the steps glanced quickly down at the Prince, easily reading the emotions plainly written across his face. As Imrahil ascended the steps to the upper deck, his insides twisted. The blood-curdling scream that echoed down the hallway startled the guards and they glanced quickly at the Prince, who simply shook his head.

"He is in the hands of his kin now." Imrahil whispered as sunlight beat down on his head. "If anyone in Middle-Earth can save him now, it is they."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"You will take me to my husband this instant!" Arwen demanded of the guard that barred her door. "You are in no position to refuse me."

It had been two days since she had been brought aboard the elven ship and she had spent most of it in a drugged sleep. Her grandfather had mixed a tea that had kept her in a state of rest for the better part of two days. Now that she was feeling better, more coherent, she could easily discern when the she was about to be drugged into complacency.

"Do not expect me to stand for this. Release me from this prison now!" Arwen fumed and when the door opened behind the guard, he was visibly relieved to find Imrahil standing before him, followed by the Chamberlain bearing more tea. 

"You are dismissed. Thank you." Imrahil nodded and the guard made for the door faster than the Prince of Dol Amroth would have thought possible.

The Chamberlain stirred the mixture and offered the mug to the Queen. "Please drink, majesty. You must regain your strength."

Arwen scowled and took a sip, knowing just how difficult they would make life for her if she didn't comply. But one sip was all she took before turning her heated gaze on Imrahil.

The Prince of Dol Amroth held his hand up to still her words. "Peace. Please. I've come to take you to him."

"It's about time." Arwen seethed.

"Please. Just listen to me." Imrahil began, his eyes sad, his voice low. 

Arwen's anger faded and her heart plummeted into her stomach. She unconsciously clutched the mug of tea in both hands, needing something to grasp for support.

"He is injured. Badly. Your brothers, Lord Celeborn and Cirdan have done their best for him but he is weak, deathly so." Imrahil took a deep breath. It had been decided by her family to warn her before hand, to tell her the gravity of the situation before she laid eyes on her beloved. "We are another three days at least from the White City and even longer if we attempt to move him. For the road would be slow."

"I understand." Arwen said meekly. "Take me to him."

"He will look- bad, Arwen. He is very sick." Imrahil rested his hand on her arm, imploring her to understand.

"He is dying." It was not a question.

The Chamberlain raised an eyebrow at the statement. For he, too, had not been allowed near the King and knew as little as the Queen about the severity of his injuries.

"We don't know. Not yet." Imrahil admitted with a sigh. "He has not worsened. Not-exactly."

"Take me to him," She whispered and Imrahil nodded.

When they reached the door, the silence within frightened her more than she was prepared to admit. Imrahil opened the door and two dark haired, followed by two light, heads glanced up. They'd known Imrahil was going to bring Arwen to her husband but that didn't lessen the fear they felt when she looked at the man, to whom she was bound for the rest of her days, lying so still and sick in the bed before them. She faltered for a moment, and stood still, letting her gaze sweep across her husband's unconscious form.

Celeborn immediately went to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, but she shrugged him off wordlessly and moved to the bed where her husband lay – very still and very pale.

"Tell me." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"We've done all we can for now." Celeborn began. When Arwen didn't answer, he continued. "We need to go ashore the rocking sea is too much for him, but we must reach an inhabited village first. Cirdan has stabilized him with medicine drawn from seaweed and other herbs he gathered before we left the island." 

"Thank you, Cirdan." Arwen whispered. She raised a slim hand to rest along her husband's damp cheek and released a short breath. His skin was cold and clammy even as the room itself was kept at an incredibly high temperature. Arwen trembled as the cold from his body seeped through her hand. She choked back a sob and sank to her knees. Her head fell against his arm and she closed her eyes. After a few moments, she concentrated, feeling the warmth of her spirit circle the cold attempting to take root in her body. 

"Arwen." Celeborn's eyes narrowed and he took a step toward his granddaughter.

"May the grace of the Valar..." Arwen whispered, her eyes fluttering. A slim hand slipped between limp fingers as the other flattened against his cheek. "Protect him."

She concentrated, her weak body protesting as she forced the warmth from herself into the unconscious form of her husband. The power of the elves was still with her. It was with all of them. She knew she could help him. Heal him. And it would only take the sheer power of her will. Dimly, she heard Celeborn cry out and then she felt herself being pulled away.

"Nooooooo," Arwen cried as the connection with her husband snapped and she reached for him.  Celeborn's arms encircled her waist and drew her away even as she screamed from the loss of contact.

"You cannot, Arwen." Celeborn held her tightly as he spoke. Imrahil's eyes narrowed in confusion as he listened. "If you force your spirit into him, it will kill you. We've taken turns, "he indicated the other elves who stood nearby, "sending him the warmth of the Valar and our love. We cannot test the fates. We cannot risk your life and the life of your babe."

"I can! I will! Release me!" Arwen protested, her shrill cries echoing off the walls. 

"Your baby!" Celeborn released her and turned her to face him, his hands holding her securely by the shoulders. "You need to be in bed resting. Your body has taken too much stress. If you try to help us, you could harm the baby. Please, Arwen."

Arwen breathed a sob and her hands flew to her abdomen. "My baby." She turned sad eyes on the man lying still as death on the bed. "Our baby."

"He wouldn't want this." Celeborn said quietly, sadly. 

"I cannot live without him," Arwen said dejectedly. "If he dies, I will follow…and we will have no baby."

"Arwen," Celeborn winced as he thought desperately of a way to soften his next words. "You…have the welfare of a kingdom to think of now. And you carry its heir within you."

Arwen shook her head as Elladan stepped beside her to wrap strong arms around her shoulders. Celeborn let her go, but continued, wincing as his tone turned sharper than he intended. "The days are long past when you could think solely of your love. If Aragorn – dies – then you will be looked upon to rule in his stead."

"I cannot." She choked back a sob and buried her face in Elladan's tunic. "My fate is bound to his, grandfather. If he dies, so shall I."

"You know that is not true." Celeborn countered and Imrahil breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your soul is bound to his, yes. But your life is not."

Suddenly, Arwen turned, eyes red, her cheeks wet from tears that slipped untouched down her cheeks. He could see the determination in her eyes. He had seen it before….in the love that burned so intense between the couple that one, at times, had to look away or be scorched in its path. They had risked and endured much to be together, and everyone who knew their long story – save one – had rejoiced when their day had finally come. 

"Do not make me restrain you." Celeborn warned.

She pulled herself out of Elladan's arms and returned to sit next to her husband. When she reached a trembling hand to brush away a strand of damp hair from his face, her stomach twisted and she gasped for breath.

Celeborn was beside her in an instant but she shrugged off the comforting hand he laid on her shoulder.  "You must rest, Arwen. You must think of your health."

"If it is his fate to die here. Then I will be with him when he is taken from me." Arwen whispered, her voice cracking.

The ship lurched suddenly and Aragorn groaned, head tossing feverishly to the side. Arwen gripped the bed tightly, fighting a wave of nausea while Celeborn turned to Imrahil.

"We must get off the water. Find an inhabited island where we can take Aragorn to treat his injuries. This constant rocking is not helping his nor Arwen's condition."

"Agreed." Imrahil turned on his heal and strode out of the chamber, determination hurrying his steps.

Celeborn glanced back at Arwen as she lay her head beside her husband, clearly ill from the rocking of the ship.

"Arwen, please return to your chamber. You will get no rest here." Celeborn rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I will not leave him."  
  


"He would want you to take care of yourself and your babe, Arwen." Celeborn implored, kneeling beside her . "You know this."

Arwen said nothing, simply remained immobile, her head lying close to her husband's. She didn't see Celeborn nod to Elrohir and she did not put up too much of a fight when she was lifted into her brother's arms and removed from the room. Her own growing nausea and weakness prevented her from putting up much resistance.

Celeborn let out a huge sigh, head dropping into his hands.

Cirdan stepped toward his friend and rested a strong hand on the elf's shoulder. "You need rest. Go. I will stay with Elladan and Aragorn."

Celeborn shook his head but Cirdan insisted. "You will be notified the instant there is a change."

The elf nodded and stood, turning back one last time to look at the unconscious man lying on the bed, before walking out the door to see to his granddaughter.

 ---------------------------------------------

"We are not more than a day from the White City. Less by ship."  Imrahil said as they walked through the City of Lossarnach. "I've sent riders to inform Faramir what is happening."

People gathered along the small dirt pathway, watching with wide eyes the men, and royal guards that flanked them. It was not unheard of to see royal guard in the City, as the King had often visited this southern holding. But usually the guard was followed by the King, and, thus far, the man had not yet been sighted. And the guard was especially secretive.

Celeborn nodded as they were led into a large, spacious building. "This is the best we can offer you, My Lords." Aerthane, Lord of Lossarnach, said somewhat nervously, extending his hands to indicate the room in which they now stood. He had never had dealings with the elves and to see them escorted by the royal guard set his nerves on edge. "There are plenty of beds here for the injured. And upstairs there is a somewhat private suite of rooms. We built this up during the war, when we had more injured than we knew what to do with. It has long gone unused and we only have need of it when sickness runs through the people and we need to keep the sick contained." He, along with the rest of the City, was wondering from where the ship in the harbor had come from, and what injured it bore.

"This will do well. Thank you." Imrahil nodded to the guards that had accompanied him and they began to arrange the furniture.

"Of course, sire." The man bowed to Imrahil and stepped aside. He recognized the signet of Imrahil's house immediately. The banners flying high over the Elven Ship were a clear indication there was a member of the royal family aboard, but they had yet to be seen.  "Is there anything else you require?"

"Your herbmaster." Celeborn turned to Aerthane.  

"I'll fetch her." Aerthane nodded to a guard who rushed to carry out his Lord's order. 

Celeborn turned to Imrahil and Aerthane frowned. "Lets get them off the ship." 

--------------------------------------

People gathered as close as was allowed, as the small boats came one after the other, bearing injured from the High Elven Ship, onto the shore. The royal injured were surrounded nearly to the point where no one could see who was being carried and Aerthane watched with curious fascination and more than a little concern. He knew the King had been out of the realm on errands in the North and was due to return to Gondor at any time.

"You have many injured, my Lords. What has happened?" The man asked as they reached the building that would serve as a sick house. "We have heard no tidings of war from the White City." The man's eyes widened when the Knights parted to allow the litter into the room and then gasped as he recognized the injured man. "The King." He muttered, biting back a gasp of shock. Elladan and Elrohir flanked their brother as he was carried up the steps and into a more private suite of rooms.

Celeborn turned immediately to Aerthane and stood over him, his expression stern. "You will tell no one of who we bring here. We have dispatched riders to the White City and expect them to return soon.

"I will do my best, My Lords. But – this news might be too difficult to contain."

"Just halt the flow of information flowing out of the City as best you can, please."

The queen arrived next, cloaked and sandwiched between another set of royal guards. The man's eyes widened when he saw her walking slowly toward the steps up which they had taken her husband. The man had never seen such beauty, and recognized Arwen immediately as the Queen of Gondor.

"Majesty." Aerthane fell to his knees immediately and bowed his head.

"Please do as my grandfather says." Her voice was like a wisp of music to his ears.

"Yes, Lady." The man nodded and he rose as the Queen passed.

"Thank you." 

From another room, a loud cry echoed through the building and Imrahil quickly escorted Aerthane out the door, asking him to be patient and they would meet as soon as everything was settled. 

Everyone stood frozen in place as Imrahil turned toward the source of the heart-wrenching sound.

As the door nicked shut behind the Lord of Lossarnach, Elladan walked slowly down the steps, his face pale, and his eyes full of tears.

Arwen glanced at her brother and stretched out her hand, looking for something to steady her as her heart plummeted into her toes. Celeborn appeared beside her to hold her upright as Elladan, followed by Elrohir walked slowly down the steps.

"No." Arwen whispered as she looked at the pale faces of her brothers. She began to tremble, her hand flying to cover her mouth and stifle her cry.

Guards stopped working around them as they watched the twins approach their sister. Silence descended like a wave to silence everyone in the room.

"He- he stopped breathing, 'wen," Elladan said slowly, a tear finally dripping from the corner of his eye to snake down his smooth cheek. "We couldn't get him back. Not this time. We-"

"No!" Arwen cried and launched herself out of her grandfather's arms. She took a few steps and then cried out in pain, clutching at her abdomen as she felt the hot sting of fluid flow down her legs. Her eyes crossed and she sailed toward the railing of the steps, reaching for something to support her weakening body. 

"Arwen!" All four elves rushed toward her and she gazed at them with a shocked, pained expression moments before she crumpled to the floor.

Legolas, Gimli and the Chamberlain stepped through the door in time to hear the Queen's name echo from the lips of the four elves. They stood rooted in place as they watched the woman collapse heavily to the floor. 

"Majesty!" The Chamberlain was the first to react, calling out and making motion toward his Queen. Legolas' elven reflexes saved the unwelcome intrusion as he stopped the concerned man from stepping any closer to a scene that was already under as much control as was possible. 

"No," Legolas whispered, never taking his eyes off the Queen. "Let them to their work."

Blood pooled beneath Arwen as Celeborn pulled his granddaughter into his arms. He gasped at the warmth that soaked into his own garments, realizing immediately what had happened yet still hoping he was wrong. "Valar no. Please." He prayed to anyone who would hear his plea. "Please don't do this to them."


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_The thick, white mist surrounded him as he walked uncertainly toward the beacon of light shining far into the distance. He raised his arm before him, letting it guide his way. Voices whispered around him, faces and images flashed before his eyes. He stumbled and invisible hands lifted him to his feet. There was no pain, no injury, only memory. He was well  again– mostly._

_"Where am I?" Came the uncertain question._

_"In the Halls of Mandos."_

_"You walk the long path to your forefathers."_

_"They have longed to see you."_

_"**We have longed to see you."**_

_"You walk the path of the dead to life beyond the world."_

_"As does everyone when their lives have come to an end."_

_And end? Aragorn's mind whirled and his steps faltered._

_Voice after voice answered his question, each answer different than the first. His eyes narrowed in confusion and as the light hummed brighter, a searing pain lanced through his chest and he collapsed with a loud cry. He reached toward the light, a mere short distance away, but was unable to touch it for it seemed to burn far out of his reach._

_Then, the voices changed. He could feel the weight of their minds, pressing him, pushing him away. Away from the light. Away from peace. Away from them._

_"It is not his time."_

_"It is unavoidable."_

_"It cannot be."_

_"He cannot stay."_

_"He is not welcome."_

_"Not yet, my son." _

_"We will be waiting for you when it is your time." Came the final voice._

_He screamed in pain as the voices slammed into his head with the force of an avalanche, sending him spiraling back to the conscious world with an ear splitting scream that shook the very foundations of the non-corporeal world that refused to welcome him._

Aragorn's chest heaved as he drew a large breath, expanding his bruised and battered lungs to the near breaking point. He groaned as the pain returned tenfold and lifted shaking hands to his chest, clutching it as if the gesture would stop the pain that burned red hot beneath his skin.

A servant dropped the vase of fragrant flowers she was about to set on the table next to the bed, eyes wide with shock and fear. She backed into the wall, screaming and rushed out of the room, leaving the barely conscious man alone and gasping for air.

Imrahil rushed in and came to an immediate halt just inside the door.  The frightened servant, who had been a witness to Aragorn's miraculous return to life, hid behind the Prince' shoulder and pointed toward the bed.

When he glanced down at the gasping figure, his eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack. Aragorn had died. He was supposed to be –

"How can this be?" Imrahil stepped toward his King, but not before imploring the young woman hiding behind him to fetch one of the Elven Lords currently tending to the Queen. She happily left the room on her errand, convinced that she had seen a very real ghost.  "You. You-"

Imrahil was still gaping at Aragorn when Elladan came running through the door and skidded to a halt before nearly knocking the Prince of Dol Amroth off his feet. "What is going-" Elladan's eyes widened and he stood in momentary shock, eyes straining to believe what they were showing him. After a moment of indecision, he rushed to his brother's side. "What's happened? How? How is this-" 

"It burns," Aragorn gritted through clenched teeth. He clutched his chest and heaved another breath, as if it were going to be his last.

"Valar how has this happened!?" Elladan flattened his hand against Aragorn's chest, amazed to find the relatively smooth breathing resonating through his lungs. He reached for a mug of water and placed it at Aragorn's lips. The man hungrily drained the contents and glanced at his brother, eyes pleading for more of the cool liquid.  
  


"No more, brother." Elladan pulled away the covers and examined the man closely, poking and prodding at broken bones as Aragorn hissed in pain.  "You were dead, Estel." Elladan finally whispered. He checked and re-checked Aragorn's injuries and was unbelievably satisfied that his brother was indeed alive and breathing. "I felt your heart stop myself." The only change in Aragorn was that his breath came easier and his fever had broken. Otherwise, the King still had injuries very severe.

Aragorn nodded slowly and opened a suddenly dry mouth to speak. "They didn't want me. Said it wasn't my time. Sent me back."

Elladan stared and then slowly closed his eyes. The Valar had heard their frantic prayers. Now Elladan prayed they'd hear one more.

"Arwen?" Aragorn asked, sinking into the cushions of the bed when what little strength he had gained vanished. 

Elladan gulped, eyes downcast. There would be no way the elf could explain what happened to his wife without upsetting Aragorn, so he chose an easy answer.  One that would have to suffice until Aragorn was well enough to handle the news. "She is sleeping in another chamber."

Aragorn, too distracted by his own discomfort, did not question the slightly delayed response and settled into the cushions, wincing as injured muscles protested at the movement. Elladan quickly mixed some herbs into another mug of water and bade his brother to drink. Soon, Aragorn had slipped into a dreamless drug-induced slumber.

Elladan sighed heavily, rubbing his face with tired hands. His mind raced with how he would tell his foster-brother the news that could very well break the strong and resolute King of the Reunited Kingdom. 

"Shall I send for Lord Celeborn?" Imrahil asked quietly. He could read the emotions playing across the elf's face and sought to ease the suffering, if but a little.

"Yes. If he is- finished with his work."

Imrahil nodded and exhaled a deep, relieved breath. His King was alive. How, he could only guess. But, when he learned of Arwen's fate, the Prince of Dol Amroth feared that the man would slip into failing health once again.

-----------------------------------

Celeborn sat beside his granddaughter, her small hands encased tightly in his own. Her face was white, pale, deathly so. The room was filled with the stench of death, and Celeborn could barely stand the sight of such a closed–in, confining chamber. Even the vases of blooming flowers that had been placed around the room did nothing to hide the stench of death. His eyes were red and his face was stained with dried tears.  When Cirdan laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, Celeborn shook his head. The elf was clearly in a state of shock at everything that had happened in the last few hours.

Aragorn seemingly returning from the dead had not eased the pain of loss that Celeborn felt when he stared down at his unmoving granddaughter. He choked back another sob and Cirdan embraced his friend wordlessly. Death was not something elves, even in their unlimited years, would ever easily accept. And the death of one so innocent, made the heartbreak and sadness of the loss even greater.

"He keeps asking for her," Cirdan whispered after a few moments of silence. "What do you want me to tell him?"

Celeborn heaved a heavy sigh. "It can't be this way. It shouldn't be this way."

Cirdan closed his eyes, his own tears pooling beneath the closed lids. "I know, my friend. I know. But we must give him an answer."

"I will tell him," Celeborn carefully, reverently placed his daughters hands on the bed and stood. "It is my duty."

---------------------------------

The door flew open and a guard rushed to Imrahil's side. "Riders approach bearing the standard of the King." Imrahil glanced up from the table, the parchment he had been reading forgotten as he launched himself to his feet and followed the guard out of the building.

They stood silently, watching as the riders closed the distance between them quickly. Banners bearing the white tree and the royal signet flapped in the breeze and Imrahil winced when he noticed Faramir at the head of the troupe.

"Aiya, that man should have remained in the City!" Imrahil scowled. "With the bad luck that has befallen us on our return from the North, he may regret coming himself."

A few more anxious minutes passed until the small troupe, consisting of Citadel guards and Ithilian Rangers, raced through the streets.

"Ill tidings have fallen on the wind, my friend," Faramir dismounted his steed nearly before he'd come to a halt before Imrahil. "What has happened? Your letter was vague. The King?"

Imrahil held up a silencing hand. "In time." He glanced around at the people who had begun to appear out of their homes; watching and listening. Their curiosity growing even more now that the acting ruler of Gondor (until the King's return from the North) had arrived.  They'd been shunned from nearing the sick house since the sick had been brought ashore from the Elven ship, and no news could be discerned from any of the local women Imrahil had taken in as temporary servants. "Please, follow me. I have set up an office. There we can discuss all that has happened."

Faramir's eyes narrowed as he was led into the sick house and up the steps to the office Imrahil had set up in the days following their arrival.

"Where is the King?" Faramir asked as soon as the door shut and the men were alone. His eyes shone with a concern for the welfare of Aragorn matched only by that of the King's own kin.

"Resting and recovering from a series of very severe injuries." Imrahil sat behind the desk with a heavy sigh. "There is much to tell you. Sit down. We'll be here for a while."

As if on cue, a tray of bread, cheese and wine was set before them and the maid scurried out when she noticed the men had ceased their talking when she'd entered the room.

"Tell me everything," Faramir said, eyes narrowing. "Leave nothing out."

"A long story it will be, my friend."

--------------------------------

Faramir held his head in his hands, eyes closed, struggling frantically to absorb everything that had transpired since the King had left the protected walls of the White City. It was nearly more than he could bear in one sitting. So much had happened in a few short months. And now, nearly within sight of their home, tragedy had struck again. Faramir's head was swimming and his eyes were wet with unshed tears. When he looked up at Imrahil, he noticed that the man had shed his own during the telling of the tale.

"I'm never letting him set foot outside of the Citadel again." The Steward sighed, fists clenched. "I don't care how restless he becomes within the City walls."

"I think I shall retire. When we have returned safely to the White City and life returns to normal." Imrahil nodded, understanding Faramir's frustration. "I have grown more grey hair in the last few weeks, than in my entire lifetime – including the raising of Lothoriel, and my sons which, to date, I thought of as my greatest challenge!"

"He will need our help to adjust." Faramir's voice dropped, thinking of the news that he hoped would not be his to bear to his friend and King.  

"Yes."

----------------------------

"Why have I not seen Arwen?" Aragorn asked, directing a very pointed look at his Steward and refusing to look away until he got an answer. "Is she not well?"

"I believe that question is best answered by Lord Celeborn, My Lord," Faramir said, meeting his King's gaze. Faramir knew if he looked away, Aragorn could read him as easily as he could a book of ancient runes. By staring unfalteringly at his King, he'd buy some more time until Celeborn could be torn away from his other duties.

"Why is that?" 

Faramir could see he was becoming agitated and the Steward knew he would not be able to dissuade his King indefinitely. "I will fetch him. It is better that he-"

"Where. Is. My. Wife?" Aragorn asked slowly, eyes boring into and through his Steward.  As he tried to sit up in the bed, broken ribs and bruised muscles complained at the movement and Aragorn hissed back a groan of pain.

Faramir hesitated and Aragorn felt his heart plummet into his stomach. His face softened and his breath caught. He could barely voice the words as he stared, unblinking, at his friend. "Dead?"

Before Faramir could answer, Celeborn walked through the doors and immediately broke the tension that hung between the two men.

"Where is she?" Aragorn asked immediately, before Celeborn had taken even two steps into the room. 

Celeborn gazed at his grandson with sad eyes, took a deep breath, and strode silently to the edge of the bed. He pulled over a nearby chair and sat slowly, stiffly into it. He set his hand on Aragorn's and squeezed it gently. As the Lord of Lothlorien began to speak, Aragorn swallowed nervously.

Faramir took a seat on the opposite side of the bed, his insides twisting at the news Celeborn was about to give his King.

"No." Aragorn whispered, closing his eyes against the tears that welled immediately beneath the lids. "No." His hands tightly clutched the bed sheets as he shook his head against his grandfather's words.

Faramir turned away when Celeborn gave Aragorn the news. The anguish he saw reflected in the eyes of his King, caused a tremor to race down his spine,  and  Faramir decided that if he never had to witness such a sight again in his lifetime it would be too soon.

TBC

Probably not what everyone wanted to read but…he's alive for those of you begging me not to kill him…:) 

Everything else, you've all begged for, well, I can't promise anything…only…..that things get **FAR** worse before they get better…..the next story 'Retribution' which will begin shortly, will most likely have you hating me for life.

Only one more chapter of this one and then 'Retribution' begins.

Thanks for all the feedback, encouragement and begging.  It is most appreciated! :)


	13. Chapter 12

**There will be one more small chapter after this one, before 'Retribution' begins.  **

**Thank you everyone for their reviews. Thank you for calling me evil, that is one of my many middle names. I do so enjoy torturing the reader….**

Arynetrek -  Not even close – with the exception of one little word….

Lynne – there is always hope…:)

Kaz – yes, you are right.

Claire – your question is answered in this chapter.

Saarielle – re-read it again…..someone died…not necessarily who you thought.

Elfstone – angst is my friend. I love writing it. If you thought this story was angst-ridden, you may want to skip 'Retribution'. Things get a LOT worse before there is even a glimmer of hope…****

**Chapter 12 **

"I'm sorry, Estel." Celeborn used Aragorn's elven name in an attempt to comfort the distraught King. "There was nothing I could do. Nothing any of us could do. It happened so quickly." Celeborn gazed at his granddaughter's husband with compassion. 

Aragorn's eyes remained closed as Celeborn spoke and the elf could see his grandson struggle to keep control over his emotions. He bowed his head, barely able to keep a sob from escaping his own throat. The elven Lord knew it would be difficult but nothing could prepare him for the anguish and pain etched into the features of this mortal who so loved his granddaughter.

"Elladan and Elrohir had just come from telling us you had died." Celeborn continued, knowing that Aragorn would want to know how it happened – he would want to know everything. "Arwen collapsed and…," Celeborn took a deep breath, "It was far too quick for anything to be done. And Valar knows I tried – we tried."

Aragorn nodded silently, unable to speak. His heart threatened to pound through his chest and all he wanted to do was pick something up and throw it. He was so very angry, he could barely think straight. He took a deep breath, ignoring the tears that slipped from the corner of his closed eyes. "I shouldn't have insisted we leave the White City. I should have insisted she stay behind."

"Without you? For months?" Celeborn cocked his head at Aragorn, knowing exactly what his granddaughter's reaction would have been to this news. "You know she would have insisted on accompanying you."

"It would have prevented-" Aragorn stopped short, choking back a small sob. When he looked up, Celeborn's heart nearly broke in two. The sadness, pain, shock and guilt evident in Aragorn's stunned gaze caused the elf's own eyes to well with tears. Celeborn understood why Faramir had found himself unable remain in the room with such grief. "Can I see her? Does she know? This news will-" Aragorn stopped and swallowed heavily. They'd had many an excited discussion since learning she was going to have a babe. This news, as it was doing to him, would rip out her heart.

 "When you can stand on your own, you may see her."

Aragorn snorted in disgust, quite aware that Celeborn had not answered his other question.

"You have your own injuries, Aragorn. You need to give them time to heal."

"Then sit down and tell me everything." Aragorn set his jaw, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Everything."

----------------------------------

When Arwen finally woke, it was to the sound of her own voice – and her own blood-curdling scream that echoed down the halls. The frightening sound drew her brothers to her room with concern etched into their ageless features. Each took a side of the bed and sandwiched her between them, embracing her with a gentle touch and subtle strength.

She whimpered as tears dropped from tightly closed eyelids. Her hands cradled her stomach and her heart cried out for that which she'd lost. She could feel that something had been ripped from her but her emotions were too scattered to pinpoint the cause.  "Estel?" She wondered aloud before images and feelings began to coalesce in her memory. "Our baby….!?" The hysteria in her voice sent tremors down her brother's spines and they both brushed away the tears dripping down pale cheeks. Her body shook as her memory returned, and the feeling of complete helplessness as she remembered the look on her brother's faces as they told her that her husband was dead.  "Estel! No!"

"No, Arwen, he is alive." Elladan cupped one side of her cheek in his hand, drawing her eyes to his. "Estel is alive." He implored, trying to make her understand through her grief. "He's badly injured but…I was wrong. I thought he'd died. His heart stopped but…the Valar…they sent him back to us."

Arwen's breath caught and hope glinted in her eyes. "Then – my..baby?" Trembling hands cradled her slightly swollen belly as if feeling for the life it once contained.

"The little one is lost to you, child," Celeborn arrived then and glanced sadly at his granddaughter. 

Elrohir stood and moved out of Celeborn's way as he took the younger elf's place and put a mug of medicated tea to Arwen's lips. "Your body suffered too much strain. It was too much for the babe."

Arwen sobbed, dropping her chin to her chest after taking a sip of tea. She leaned back into the cushions and curled herself into a ball, rejecting any comfort her kin tried to bestow.

"Arwen, it is not your-"

Her voice was barely audible beneath her sobs. "Finally, after years of waiting, I was going to give him an heir and now-"

"His only concern is for your safety, Arwen." Celeborn's words were of no comfort as she continued.

"What must he think of me? It is so difficult for elven woman to bear children. The people wonder, I hear it and see it, but he shrugs it off as of little importance, when I knew it weighs heavily on his shoulders." Arwen's voice held a long concealed sadness and Celeborn closed his eyes, realizing with a jolt of annoyance that there was more to Arwen's grief than just loosing the baby. 

"The people love their King _and their Queen, Arwen," Celeborn tried to offer more words of comfort before Arwen talked herself into a depression. "They will wait for a time when you can safely bear your husband a child."_

The twins silently made their way toward the door, nodding as Celeborn mouthed instructions to send for Aragorn.

Arwen ignored Celeborn's words and curled tighter into herself, pulling the covers over her body and crying into the pillow before falling into an exhausted and drug induced sleep.

-----------------------------------

"We can't move either of them. Their injuries are too severe." Celeborn addressed a representative from Gondor, Imrahil and Faramir, his jaw set and his eyes ablaze.

"Healers have arrived from Minis Tirith and they can remain here indefinitely. " Faramir said firmly. "The King's governors and advisors will just have to understand "

"When they are well enough to travel, by ship or by land, we will leave, and not a moment sooner." Celeborn stated, leaving no room for argument. The representative began to wilt beneath the Elven Lord's stare. "We all want them safely returned to Gondor, Lord Soront, but not at the expense of their health."

The governor set his chin and scowled. "I wish to see the King. To ascertain his injuries for myself."

"He is asleep." Celeborn said firmly. "And he will not be disturbed."

"Then I will wait until he wakes. There are urgent matters that need to be discussed with him." Soront stated. He was not used to being put off by an elf, and being put off by one that held no position within Gondor's hierarchy angered him beyond measure.

"I am well aware of those matters, governor," Faramir stared hard at the man. "And they were taken care of to the best of my ability before I left the White City."

"That may not have been good enough." The governor growled. "If they grow tired of waiting on unfulfilled promises, they will see Gondor's inaction as cause for an attack."

Faramir set his chin as Celeborn shot him a questioning look. "They will rue the day they even make the attempt, governor."

"With you here and the King – indisposed - they could make a valiant effort in taking the City or some of the smaller-."

"Which is why I left my second in charge when I left. He has been well briefed and should the need arise, he is prepared to meet any attack upon the City or any of its holdings."

"I hope you are right, Lord Steward." The governor stared uncertainly at the man. "The King will-"

"You may see the King when I so permit, and not a moment sooner." Faramir nodded to the royal guard standing at the entryway and they quickly stepped beside the governor to escort him out of the room.

"You'd better hope war is not declared on Gondor. With the King's absence, the White City could very well fall." Were the governor's last words as he was escorted toward the door.

"Not without a very large, experienced army with one very brave and foolish commander at its head." Faramir muttered with disgust. "Any race bearing Gondor ill will,  with a large enough contingent of men to do the City harm, was destroyed during the War of the Ring."

"You may be surprised, Lord Faramir." Soront muttered as he glowered at the royal guard. 

"Governor Soront," Faramir called and the man turned.

"Yes, Lord Faramir?"

The Chamberlain stepped through the open door and stared at the governor, seeking to speak with the man when he was finished with the Steward.

"Know you something that we do not?"

Soront's glanced at the Chamberlain and shook his head. "No, My Lord. Reports are sketchy, and you have all of the information that I have managed to obtain."

Faramir nodded slowly and waved the Chamberlain to enter. "Thank you, you may go." He nodded to the guards and they finished their escort.

"Yes, My Lord?" The Chamberlain asked Faramir, a confused look in his eyes. 

"He's hiding something. Find out what it is."

The Chamberlain's eyes widened. "Me, My Lord?"

"Yes, you." Faramir sighed. "You would be the least expected to pry for information. I want to know what the Council fears is about to happen. There is something they are not revealing."

The Chamberlain smiled proudly. "I will do my best, Lord Faramir!" 

"What is going on?" Celeborn turned to Faramir, his brow creased with confusion.

------------------------------

The next day, Imrahil and Faramir were returning from a meeting with the Lord of Lossarnach when they noticed the Chamberlain speaking to a few oddly dressed men. They had a foreign aire about them and when the Chamberlain had finished speaking with the men, he waved to his Lord's and trotted over to join them.

"Who were those men? They had an- odd- look about them." Faramir asked.

"Oh, they are visitors to the City." The Chamberlain answered honestly. "I was returning from seeing councilor Soront back to the White City, thankfully, and these men stopped me to ask why there was such a large contingent of royal guards in the City." 

"Ah," Faramir nodded and Imrahil scowled.

"Well I do hope you told them it was none of their concern." Imrahil said quickly.

"Aye, Lord." The Chamberlain nodded with a smile. "I gave them some information on the White City and the marketplace. I believe they plan to set up a trade route with the City."

"They wanted a royal audience then?" Faramir asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye," The Chamberlain grinned. "But I instructed them on the proper protocol for requesting such an audience."

Faramir nodded and it was Imrahil who spoke next.

"Where were they from?"

The Chamberlain shrugged. "They didn't say. Only that they had goods that would be considered rare in Gondor and that the King would be interested in seeing their wares."

Imrahil snorted and Faramir laughed. "If we had a piece of mithril for everyone who claimed such things, we'd be very rich men indeed."

"What did you learn from Soront?" Faramir asked.

"Not much." The Chamberlain admitted with a sigh. "He seems to think there will be some attacks but is unsure where. He has informants scattered throughout the lands, of that I am certain."

"As all good advisor's do," Imrahil nodded and Faramir scowled.

"Aye, but when he holds back information that could be vital-" The Chamberlain's words planted doubt and uncertainty in the minds of the two Lords.

"I will have my own guard do a bit of investigating." Imrahil muttered. "Until the King and Queen have recovered enough to return to the City, our hands here are tied."


	14. Chapter 13

**Last chapter in this story. Not as good as I'd like but I'm going away tomorrow for a long weekend and I figured I'd give you all a gift before I left… :)**

**Chapter 13**

Two very long weeks later, and with no further incidents, the elves, soldiers and healers from the White City boarded the elven ship and made ready to set sail. The decision had been made that it would be quicker, and easier on the injured, to travel as far as possible by ship rather than over uneven land.

Aragorn, still unable to stand for long periods of time on his own, was carried in a well-concealed litter. Arwen followed closely behind, carried also in a litter as she was not willing to walk on her own. The sadness in her normally cheerful and radiant eyes, bespoke the tragedy that had struck the royal family. Even Aragorn's valiant attempt at cheerfulness was laced with the pain and sadness in his own crystal eyes.

"The trip to the White City should be quick, with fair winds." Imrahil advised the King, who sat sipping tea from his sickbed.

"It will be good to be home." Aragorn said simply glancing quickly at the second bed that had been placed in the room – on which Arwen lay, half dozing. "Thank you." Aragorn's tone had an air of finality to it that Imrahil had come to recognize as a polite dismissal. He nodded respectfully and quickly removed himself from the room. 

When the door nicked shut, leaving the couple alone, Arwen buried her face in her hands. She'd been strong in the presence of others, but now that they were alone, with no one fussing over their health, Arwen could no longer hold back the tears. Her shoulders began to shake and Aragorn could hear the faint sobs.

He closed his eyes, fighting back the wave of sadness that threatened to consume him at the heart-wrenching sound. There was nothing worse in the world that the sound of a woman's tears - and that sound, now given voice by the woman he loved most in the world, would haunt him until the day he died.

 "Indonya." Aragorn reached for her but his injuries prevented him from being able to do nothing more than graze her shoulder with his fingertips. He could think of nothing more to say than, "I'm sorry," as his eyes welled with his own tears.

"Our baby." Arwen's voice cracked as Aragorn watched his wife tenderly cradle her stomach, as if there was still a life within to protect. She rolled onto her side, her back to him.

Aragorn winced in pain as he slid closer to the edge of his bed, cursing the injuries that prevented him from offering much needed comfort to his beloved. Against Celeborn's orders, Aragorn swung his legs over the side and rested there while his eyes uncrossed from the pain in his side. Aragorn knew if Celeborn were to catch him, he wouldn't be allowed in the same room with Arwen for the duration of their journey – or longer. 

When Arwen felt the bed dip heavily with his weight, she turned her head slowly toward her husband. Puffy eyes, red from her tears, widened and she rolled over to face him as he settled heavily onto the cushions.

"You shouldn't be up." Arwen whispered. 

"I can endure a little pain if my embrace can offer you the least bit of comfort." He leaned slowly back against the pillow and drew her gently against his chest. 

She melted into his embrace and her tears soaked his bedclothes as she sobbed into them. He smoothed ebony hair down the back of her head in a vain effort to still her grief. It did no good as the floodgate on her emotions broke, spilling onto her husband with the force and intensity of an avalanche. 

He held her as tight as he dared, but it was not enough. It would never be enough to still the pain of their lost child.

"I don't want to lose you. I couldn't bear it." She whispered against his chest, again feeling the slight rasping that she feared would be with him for the rest of his life - or be the cause that ended that life. "Our baby….I can't forget the pain. I feel so empty."

"I am alive. You are safe in my arms, and when the Valar permit, we will have another babe." Aragorn soothed. 

"The pain will never end, Estel," Arwen continued to sob into his chest, unable to stop the tears. 

"No, it will never end." Aragorn admitted, his voice laced with its own emotion. He'd tried to suppress it, but his wife, crying her heart out against his chest, tugged at him, pulling the grief to the forefront of his mind. "We will never forget."

He was unable to reach his arm across her body to hold her, so instead gripped tightly the hand that rested lightly on his chest. "We have another. The emptiness will not last forever."

"One day I will loose you,  Estel. Just like I lost our babe. And my hands will be tied once again." She sobbed and Aragorn had no answer, knowing she was right. "When that day comes, I will follow you in grief."

Aragorn shook his head, trying to deny the heartache her words caused. One day they _would_ be parted.  But that day had not yet come. Would not come for a very long time.

Finding no words that could still her pain, or her sobs, he simply tightened his hold on his wife and let her tears soak into his tunic. His own tears dropped into her ebony hair as he found himself unable to hold back the overwhelming grief.

--------------------------

Imrahil watched as the tower inched ever so much closer. The White City was in sight now, and he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief that they had made it safely.

"It still stands. Obviously the councilor's warnings were not justified," Celeborn stepped next to Imrahil his eyes following those of the Prince. There was a hint of annoyance in the elven Lord's voice but Imrahil knew better than to ask. 

"Perhaps," Imrahil's eyes flecked across the Palennor, narrowing as he noticed the increased guard around the city, the mounted soldiers riding in a formation that did not resemble a casual lookout. "Perhaps not."

The two watched as there waited a mounted escort at the docks, led by one of Aragorn's Dunedain advisors.

"Ardhil will give you the news you seek." Celeborn nodded toward the mounded man, one of Aragorn's distant kin from the north kingdom.

"If the rangers don't have any additional information, then there is no one who does." Imrahil nodded as the ship glided to a halt and the anchor was dropped.

Imrahil smiled as he noted the covered royal carriage that had rarely been used since Elessar's crowning. "At least we will be able to get them back into the City without too much fanfare."

"It may be good for Aragorn to make an appearance, to assure the people that he is well." Celeborn advised. "Or they will wonder why he is returning to the city in a manner different than when he left."

"I agree. I will need to speak with Faramir immediately.  Since he was called back last week to oversea this 'dispute', if you can even call it such, he may have learned more about this declaration the Haradrim intend to make on Gondor."

"Best to keep this from the King until you have substantial news to report." Celeborn said, " His body must heal, as must his heart."

Imrahil nodded with a slight wince, knowing it would take far longer for the hearts of the royal couple to heal than it would their bodies.

Boats were readied and Imrahil turned to see the twins escorting a slow-moving Arwen toward them while Aragorn stood beside her. Legolas and Gimli waited behind the King in case his strength gave out before they reached the boats that would take them to shore.

------------------------------

The City had been informed of the King's return and lined the streets waiting for a glimpse of the man they had not seen for many months. Even strangers, clad in unusual garb, watched from the shadows, eager to glimpse the renowned King Elessar as he returned to his White City. They watched with curious, dark eyes, and clutched their cloaks further around their bodies. 

Children ran through the streets screaming to their parents and soldiers lined the pathway the carriage would take through the City.

The carriage bearing the couple moved slowly through the gates, and Aragorn tossed aside the curtain covering one of the windows to wave to the crowd. Arwen did the same, from the other side, giving the people a glimpse of the royal couple, assuring them that all was well with the royal family. 

A decision would be made later if they would announce the loss of the babe to the people. Despite his objection, Aragorn conceded that it is best he consult his advisors with regards to an announcement to the entire Kingdom. A great many people already knew of the royal couple's loss, and to keep it a secret from the rest could cause doubt and concern. Elessar had been honest and forthcoming with his people in the past, it was only fair of him to let them share in his grief.

When the King and Queen were safely settled in the House of Healing, Imrahil immediately joined Faramir, seeking to discover what had transpired with the visiting Haradhrim Lords.

"By the looks of things it did not go well." Imrahil observed, taking a seat across from the King's desk, which Faramir would continue to sit behind, until Aragorn was well enough to resume his duties once again.

"They have declared that Aragorn's unwillingness to meet with them is an act of war." Faramir rubbed tired eyes. "They have returned to their lands to advise their King. Apparently, having been forced to wait so long for an audience with Elessar has caused great unrest within their King's advisory council."

Imrahil raised an amused eyebrow. "War? Do they honestly think that they can so easily declare war on Gondor and even come within a breath of taking the City? This is absurd."

"I think it may have been a tactic to see if I would reveal what duties the King attended that kept him away for so long." Faramir leaned back, stretching for the first time in hours.  "Still, I have sent word to King Eomer as well as to the elves in Ithilian in case we should need their aid."

Imrahil groaned and brushed a hand through silver-specked hair. "We need to tell Aragorn about this. As soon as he is well enough, an audience with the Haradrim King must be encouraged. If anyone can talk this King out of such a foolish declaration, it is Aragorn."

"I know. I've been hesitant to place more stress on his shoulders." Faramir admitted with a sigh. "As soon as I speak to Ioreth, and ascertain when he can return to his duties,  I will send riders to their lands and give them an audience."

"They may insist that he come to them." 

"And then I will insist they come here. For our King has just returned from many months away from his City and has no wish to leave on a long errand so soon." Faramir answered, hoping that the Haradrim would believe his words.

"I agree. Dol Amroth will stand ready with aid should harm befall the White City or any of its surrounding holdings."

Faramir stood and nodded. "Let me speak to a few more of the advisors and we will speak The King. I want to have as much of the facts to present to him as possible, as well as several solutions. Gondor isn't going to war if there is anything we can do to prevent it."

The End

TBC in "Retribution."

'Retribution' will be the last story in this series and it will probably be the most angst filled and shocking of the four. Read at your own risk. 

Synopsis:  'Retribution' - Betrayal and deception greet the King and Queen when they return from the North and Aragorn is torn by love and duty as his kingdom is thrust into a war against an unknown foe.

Angel – my site is listed on the first page of this fic.

Letanica – Well……just keep thinking that way and you'll be properly horrified come chapter 6….

Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Remember, the more reviews, the faster I post chapters….*evil cackle*


End file.
